After the World Shatters
by tvnerdgirl
Summary: Buffy contacts her old friend Methos and enlists his aid in finding new slayers after Sunnydale's demise. One slayer however does not want to be found and her secrets threaten to come between Buffy and those she loves for good. Sequel to Running on Empty
1. Aftermath

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and this story is not making any kind of profit, believe me. I am only borrowing 'em and I promise to play (relatively) nice

Author's Note: Here it is! The beginning of the long awaited sequel to "Running on Empty" (well maybe it's not that long awaited, but here it is anyway). For those of you who haven't read that story it is a good idea to do so as this one deals highly in both the Buffy and the Highlander Universes and there is a history between the characters there that will make more sense if you have read the other story. OK, that's about it...onwards!

* * *

The sun had set as the large yellow school bus entered the city limits of Los Angeles California carrying the last remaining residents of what used to be the town of Sunnydale.

Buffy Summers, no longer the solitary chosen one stared out the window of the bus, content to just watch the scenery roll by her for once in seven long years allowing the burden of the world's safety to be lifted from her shoulders. It wasn't by any means over for her, but it was no longer her job alone. The protection of the world was a task many newly called slayers all over the world would all undertake hopefully in their own way, allowing each of them to live a relatively normal life in the process.

Someone would have to let them know, teach them what their new powers meant and how to use them properly. It would be Buffys job to do just that, aided by her friends. They all had a mission now. Willow intended to use witchcraft to locate all the newly called slayers so that their job might be made easier. It had made sense and the gang readily agreed to the proposal. Buffy liked having a purpose again. It made the fact that her home had just been swallowed into the Hellmouth easier to bear. It felt good to still have a reason to keep going as well as a destination. However, they couldn't even hope to begin their task until the injured ones in their party were fully patched up and they had rested.

This was one of the reasons Buffy had suggested heading to Los Angeles first. She knew Angel and his team would be anxiously awaiting news on the outcome of the battle with the First, especially if they had seen Sunnydale disappear into the Hellmouth on TV. He would be sick with worry for hers and the others' well being and she hated the idea of putting him through that.

What would happen afterwards hadn't been discussed, but Buffy already knew what she wanted to do. Her duty was to the new slayers and the only way to help them was by organizing everything from a central location. Much as she would like it to be L.A., she knew that wasn't possible. There were too many demons there, figurative and otherwise. The old Watcher's Council had been based out of England and reforming them in Europe seemed a logical step. England however, was not what Buffy had in mind. She hadn't told any of her friends about the man known only to her and a select few others as Methos, but she had kept in contact with him. He had also been a Watcher, though for another branch that had nothing to do with slayers. With the slayer branch gone, a new one would have to be formed. Buffy had been thinking about it for a while and had come to the conclusion that the Watcher's council, though not an organization she had respected in the past, needed an overhaul and she and Methos could be just the ones to do it. He had probably seen the collapse of the town on the news as well. Or he would at any rate. She wasn't entirely certain everything would work out, but if everything went according to plan, then she would be calling him from the hospital in L.A. and proposing her plan.

Part of her was very concerned over seeing Angel again. She had seen him right before the battle and had received the amulet that had saved them, but at an enormous price. The conversation she had had with Angel played itself over and over again in her mind. She had kissed him the moment she saw him. It hadn't been planned. It had been pure instinct. It was Angel. She would always love him and he would always love her. The problem was that that wasn't always enough. She realized that where Spike was concerned as well and bitterly regretted not having the chance to tell Spike how she had really felt for him before he made his sacrifice.

She had said she loved him right before he died, but it wasn't enough and even he knew that. She hadn't lied, despite what Spike had said to her. She had loved him. It hadn't been the love she had felt for Angel, and never would be, but it was love in whatever form it took and it broke her heart to think that Spike had died not knowing that she had spoken the truth.

She hated that he would never know and she hated that he was gone now, leaving her to bear the pain of his death alone. This was truly something nobody could understand. Her friends had known she cared about Spike, but not to that extent and the only other person in the entire world that she thought she could confess anything to no longer shared that distinction. This was something that Angel could not comfort her through. This was something she could never cry on his shoulder over. He would never understand and it felt like an uncloseable rift had just opened up between them. She wondered belatedly if he had known what the amulet would do when he gave it to her, and if he had counted on her to ask Spike to be her champion. She dismissed that notion almost immediately. Angel had a jealous streak, but he would never have deliberately tried to kill Spike if he knew she cared for him. And he would never have risked the possibility that she might have used the amulet herself. Angel had always cared more for her safety than for his own. It was one of the reasons he had left.

All she could tell Angel about was the battle, how Anya as well as many other potential slayers had fought and died so bravely and how Spike had been the champion she knew he could be to the last. The rest of her feelings for Spike were her own to reconcile. Even still, no matter how far apart she and Angel may be and no matter what secrets may lie between them, Los Angeles was the only place to go…the only place they could go for now. It was like the North star calling her home.

"Earth to Buffy! Xander calling Buffy, come in Space cadet." Xander's voice was gentle and chiding and Buffy found herself smiling without even realizing it.

"So you're an astronaut now, huh Xand?" She allowed a teasing tone to enter her voice. He grinned back, the boyish grin she remembered seeing the first day they met, only now it adorned a more mature and slightly more weary face. She felt a sharp pang of regret knowing it was her lifestyle and her willingness to allow her friends to help that had caused it.

"Doubt it." Xander shot back easily. "I think NASA would frown on a one-eyed astronaut. Besides, the pirate industry is booming these days or so I hear."

"Are you OK Xander?" Buffy asked him, her tone now one of utmost seriousness. They hadn't spoken much the entire ride, each of them individually consumed by their own thoughts. Xander and Buffy had more on their mind than anyone however, as each of them was dealing with the loss of someone close during the battle. Xander hadn't said one word about Anya, but Buffy knew that she was constantly on his mind, as Spike was constantly on hers.

"Who me?" Xander asked, a smile still on his face although Buffy could see the pain in his eyes. "Yea, I'm good. Dawn and I stayed pretty much away from the fightier parts of the battle. I doubt either of us need any serious medical attention."

"That's not what I meant." Buffy stated, but she could tell Xander knew that already. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"To be honest I don't." Xander finally replied with a heavy sigh. "Maybe I will later on, but for now….I just want to keep it to myself…..want to keep her close to me for as long as I can OK?"

"I understand." Buffy said softly. She smiled gently at Xander, her own heart breaking for his loss and felt her thoughts drift once more to the loss of Spike.

"So where should we go first?" Dawn wondered, interrupting Buffy's own private pain. "Angel's?"

"I rather think the hospital would be a better idea." Giles interjected. "We have injured people that need medical attention as fast as we can get it."

"I agree." Buffy said with a nod. The blood had stopped flowing from her chest wound thanks to her slayer healing abilities, but she was far from OK. "I want to call him as soon as we get there though. If he's heard what happened he's going to be worried sick."

"Well as soon as all you bleedy people are checked in, I propose dropping me off back at the hotel. I can let Angel know that B and the others are OK in person that way." Faith looked at the others with nervous defensiveness. It was no secret she loathed hospitals and for good reason, having spent eight months in a coma three years before. Add to that that she was an escaped murder convict and the idea of not being in public areas that might draw attention was a logical one.

"That sounds like a good idea." Kennedy agreed, noticing the look on Faith's face.

"It might be better if we just took anyone without injuries back to the hotel," Buffy suggested, "if a large crowd of us shows up at the hospital we might get bombarded with questions we can't answer."

"That sounds like a reasonable plan." Giles agreed soundly. The other's nodded their agreement and began chatting softly amongst themselves as Buffy turned back to the window and stared out of it, trying to keep her mind from returning to thoughts of the battle and those who hadn't made it…those she hadn't been able to protect.

* * *

Angel was shocked and relieved to see Faith standing before him at the entrance to the hotel. He had seen what had happened to Sunnydale on the news, and between his melancholy over the loss of Connor to the life he couldn't give him and the sight of the town of Sunnydale falling into a giant hole, he had been going absolutely crazy with worry.

She was injured, but the injury was minor enough to tell Angel it was better not to mention it. He gestured for her to enter and watched as a group of people, most of them he had never seen, entering behind her. He waited, expecting to see Buffy's blond hair among them, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Gunn, Fred, Lorne and Wesley mad their way into the lobby as the group, led by Faith entered. They too were curious as to what had happened in Sunnydale, but knew that if these questions were to be asked, it would be Angel that would be doing that. They remained silent, allowing him to speak.

Heart feeling like lead, he looked fearfully at Faith, afraid to ask what he was thinking.

"Where's Buffy?"

"Chill out big guy, B and the others are just getting some patch work done at the hospital."

Looking beyond Faith, he noticed that among them were Willow, Giles, Dawn and Xander who strangely had an eye patch on.

"Hey guys." Angel said. "I uh, I hear you destroyed a town."

"Buffy destroyed it really." Xander replied with a grin that didn't quite match the expression in the eye Angel could see. "It was her plan. After burning down her school gym, blowing up the library of the second one, I think she felt the need to move on to bigger and better things. Destroying an entire town just felt like the next logical step."

"Is she really OK?" Angel asked once more. He noticed that Spike was not among the group and found himself wondering if he were at the hospital with Buffy.

"She'll be perfectly fine Angel, I assure you." Giles told him. "It occurs to me though, that you don't many of us here."

"Or what happened at all." Willow added.

"I'll wait for Buffy for the full version of that." Angel said softly, not meeting anyone's eyes. If Spike was at the hospital with her, the idea of seeing them together tore him up inside and yet somehow, he knew he had to hear it from her. "But I would love an introduction to everyone."

Willow proceeded to name off everyone in the group and Angel listened in half interest, anxious now to see Buffy, to visually confirm with his own eyes that she was OK. She was the slayer and the fact that her injuries merited a hospital visit at all frightened him.

After the introductions were complete, Angel got Fred, Lorne, Gunn and Wesley to divide the group up and show them all to their respective rooms. Faith had given him a look as Willow had made the introductions indicating that they were in desperate need of a place to stay.

As the others dispersed to their rooms, Faith lingered behind, the concerned expression never leaving her face.

"You OK there?" She asked him. He smiled slightly and nodded. "She's going to be OK, I swear."

"It's not just that." He told her honestly. She nodded knowingly.

"It's Spike right?" She guessed. "Listen I don't blame you man, but before you get all…wait for Buffy to come back and hear her story."

"I'll do that." Angel said, his eyes absent and his expression preoccupied. "Can I ask….I know I said I didn't want to hear what happened, but…Xander…that eye patch…"

"It was a difficult battle," Faith said softly. "Some of us got injured worse than others. Xander lost his eye protecting those girls you saw in there."

"Sorry to hear it." Angel told her, and he was. Despite whatever hostilities lay between him and Xander, he hadn't wanted to see him get hurt. What's more, he didn't like the look he had seen in Xander's eye. It was the same look that he himself had worn in some of his darker periods. "How are you Faith? I know you're not physically injured, but…how are you?"

"Can't complain." She shrugged with the same nonchalant attitude he knew always masked her true feelings. "It was a tough battle, but then again they all are. Part of being a slayer."

"Listen, I'm going to go make sure the others are OK…see if they need anything. You want me to show you to your room?"

"Nah, you go ahead." Faith said, waving him away. "I kind of thought I would pick one out for myself anyway, you got so many here."

Angel nodded and left the lobby, intending to busy himself until Buffy and the others returned from the hospital.


	2. Phoning an Old Friend

"It'll be good to have company again after so long," the green skinned demon was saying to Xander as he led him down a long corridor on the way to his room. Xander had immediately felt comfortable in his presence which was an odd thing, considering he usually felt uncomfortable around any demon, regardless of whether they were good or bad. "The hotel's been empty since….well, we've had our troubles here too. One day we were full up and the next…."

"I saw something about it on the news." Xander replied, "some wonder woman nearly swept the world away I hear?"

"Something like that." Lorne said wryly. "It was one of those too good to be true deals though. You know the kind."

"Most of them are." He said, more bitterly than he had intended to. He looked to Lorne sheepishly. "I just mean that sometimes life throws you a curve ball you know?"

"Believe me bucko, I know." Lorne replied. "Looks like your curve ball hit you in the face."

Xander laughed despite himself and his hand automatically touched his eye patch gingerly.

"I wish I could say the ladies find me roguishly handsome with this thing on, but…"

"Hey I get it, believe me." Lorne replied with a grin. "You think that every woman out there wants a horny guy?"

Xander chuckled slightly and it took Lorne a moment to realize that Xander had misinterpreted his statement. With a glare, he pointed to the two horns on his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"I just have to figure out how to deal you know?" Xander finally admitted to him. "Self deprecating humour only works in front of people for so long. When I'm alone…"

"You want to talk about it?" Lorne asked. "I do this thing where…do you sing?"

"Only once, but I learned my lesson believe me." He replied with a grin. "I'm clean now."

They had stopped now, in front of a small, but comfortable looking room.

"Well if you change your mind," Lorne was saying. "Just look for the horny guy. I may be able to help you out."

Xander nodded and gave a small wave as Lorne departed.

Buffy had never liked hospitals. Ever since she was a child and had watched her cousin die from what she hadn't realized was a children targeting demon, she had not been comfortable in them. Odd, considering the hospital was where a slayer spent most of her time. When she herself wasn't injured, her friends were. It wasn't just injuries either. As Xander had once put it, they did morgue time in the Scooby gang.

It was clear just looking at her friends that they shared her reticence about hospitals, however given the injuries many of them had sustained, they had no other choice.

Kennedy sat near Willow, holding her hand and gazing at her attentively. Willow wasn't injured, but the magic use had tired her considerably. She would not be needing hospital attention, but Kennedy still appeared worried. Buffy found herself smiling at the care that Kennedy obviously had for Willow. She deserved it.

Xander was relatively OK, as were Giles, Dawn and Andrew. Faith sat near Robin Wood, holding his hand and talking softly to him in an attempt to keep him conscious. She realized as she stared at the two of them that she did not feel any pangs of jealousy at all. There was a time she would have. She would have seen Faith's attraction to a man she had previously gone out with as an attempt to take something, one more thing from her. Now, all she saw were two people, one a slayer who had had a road almost as rough as she had, maybe moreso. She smiled grimly as they pulled into the hospital emergency area and those uninjured filed out and called for a cab.

Giles, although he was relatively unscathed, elected to stay with Buffy and the other slayers, feeling they were his responsibility. Once a watcher, always a watcher. Buffy did not want to be in the hospital at all, but was smart enough to acknowledge the need for it, slayer healing abilities or no.

The nurses seemed very surprised at the group of young girls and one British man as they marched (well, those that could march), into the waiting room. They went to work doing triage almost immediately and Buffy was rushed into a room for her injuries to be looked at more thoroughly by a doctor.

They answered the questions they were asked with half truths. Sunnydale's collapse seemed too good of a disaster not to use it, so they claimed to have been unable to escape in time and had watched the town fold down around them. It was not completely untrue.

The hospital staff bought it however and Buffy and the others breathed relieved sighs that they would not be questioned further. She had too much on her mind as it was to worry about what the others thought might have happened to them.

The first thing she did when she got the opportunity was call Methos. Her instinct was of course to call Angel first, but she knew that Willow and Xander were already there, telling him that she was OK. Not to mention that she dreaded the inevitable conversation that had to occur between them and she was not anxious to watch as a rift the size of the grand canyon opened between them. If it had to happen, better it be in person.

Methos on the other hand, was a much less complicated phone call. He was a very dear friend and one that had been invaluable to her after she had killed Angel to stop Acathla and run away for three months.

She had ended up in a city called Seacouver where Methos had managed to literally bulldoze his way into her life. In hindsight she really didn't mind. He had somehow found a way into her heart and she would be lying to herself if she pretended that the idea of seeing him again was not an extremely welcome one. She had left him, thinking she would never see him again and now it seemed that she had nothing but opportunity to do just that. Whatever other heartbreaks she had suffered that day, that particular thought, caused her to smile. He'd always been good that making her smile.

He answered the phone as Adam Pierson, the name he used when he was trying to cover his identity as the world's oldest man. Buffy smiled.

"Hey…it's me." She didn't say her name, but she didn't have to. Methos would have seen what happened on the news by now. He'd be waiting for her to call.

"I was worried about you." His warm Welsh accent carried a hint of relief and she found herself smiling, despite everything. "I was hoping you would call."

"I guess you saw what happened then." It was not a question.

"Me, Joe, Duncan, everybody." He paused. "Was it your doing or a demon's?"

She smiled at that. He knew of her tendency to destroy property when fighting evil. She had told him how she burned down the gym before moving to Sunnydale, not to mention sending him an email after she blew up Sunnydale High to stop the mayor.

"Little bit of both actually." She said in answer to his question. "In our defense though, we were fighting the original evil. Had to do something dramatic."

"But you're OK?" The worry was back in his voice. "You didn't die again did you?"

"No," she said with a laugh, "but I did take a nasty blow to the stomach. I'm at the hospital right now. Well, me and some others. Look, I'm not just calling to let you know all's well."

"I didn't think you were." Methos' voice was all business now and it reminded her how well he knew her. He would have sensed the ulterior reason for the call right from the start.

"To be perfectly honest, I need your help."

"You need somewhere to go." He spoke carefully and Buffy knew he was trying not to sound too hopeful. It had been so long since they'd last seen each other.

"Yes," she said, then took a deep breath. "But it's more than that."

"I thought it might be." He replied carefully. "I figured if it were just about a place you would go to L.A." He didn't say why. Both of them knew it was because of Angel. She didn't talk about him much to Methos, but she didn't have to. He had been there for her, when she had thought Angel lost to her forever. If anybody completely understood the depth of her feelings for Angel, it was Methos.

"I can't explain it all on the phone, but I've done something that could change things in a pretty serious way." She took a deep breath. "Something that will impact everybody. I…I need somewhere to stay not just for me, but for the people I have with me."

"How many people?" Trust Methos to get to the heart of the issue. Buffy took a breath.

"Quite a few. Do you have the room?"

"I'll make the room." He sounded sure, as if he had already made the decision before she called. "When can I expect you?"

"I don't know," she replied running her fingers through her hair. "I'm at the hospital right now, but I still have to stop by Angel's and get the rest of the group. I'll call you before we get on the plane."

"I'll do my best to get some supplies for you." He told her. "I assume you got out with nothing but the clothes on your back?"

"Pretty much," she replied with a heavy sigh. She hadn't even thought of the fact that she literally had nothing until now.

"Don't worry about it," he said softly. There was something about his voice that was almost always soothing to her. "Can you afford to get here?"

She thought a moment before biting her lip in worry.

"I don't know." She had whatever was in her bank account left, and whatever the others had. Hopefully they could scrape up enough for the flight. "Maybe."

"If you need anything, let me know." He told her in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'll wire it to you. Your only job is to get here OK?"

"OK," she said as she exhaled the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "I'll call you soon."

"I'm looking forward to it," was his reply. She could almost hear him smiling and it warmed her, made her feel a little better.

"Me too," she let the smile in her voice be heard. "Hey Methos? Thank you so much….for everything."

"Don't thank me," he said quietly. "Just get here."


	3. Rifts

She hung up the phone and turned to see Giles standing there, staring at her quizzically. She had never talked about Methos to any of her friends, including Giles. It was going to be difficult trying to explain just who he was and why she had kept him a secret. Even she wasn't sure. At first, she just hadn't wanted to talk about her summer away from Sunnydale because it reminded her too painfully not only of Angel, but of Methos who she thought she had also lost, though not to death.

Afterwards she just never saw the reason or the time to broach the subject. It never seemed important for one, but there was more to it than just that. She had wanted to keep Methos secret because she wanted to keep him close…keep him personal. She liked the thought that if something happened to her life, there was one person who didn't know any of the 'gang'…who would be there just for her, no ties, no questions asked. Truthfully she had never thought she would ever need to call that favour in, but it looked like now was that time. And Giles was looking like he wanted some answers.

"Who was that?"

"A friend," she answered, knowing it sounded vague, but not sure how else to describe him. "Just someone I know in Europe."

"Europe?" He sounded surprised. That was better than suspicion.

"I met him during the summer I ran away." She admitted, knowing it would do no good to make something up. "He gave me a place to stay. He's in France now."

"And you've made the decision that all of us should go there." He sounded angry about that. She found herself rubbing her eyes, just wishing she could lay down, go to sleep and not have to deal with any of this. She and Giles had been having problems ever since he came back from England with Willow and some potential slayers. Part of it was a case of Buffy finally breaking away from Giles as her father figure, but another part was Giles' betrayal and plot to have Spike killed, supposedly for the good of the mission. Even though she had officially forgiven him, the tension was still there, as well as the growing mistrust.

"We have to go somewhere." She answered reasonably. "He's willing to get us there. Look, I have a plan, but I want everybody together and settled before we can discuss it. If you don't want to come with us, the don't, but we're going to Paris."

"I never said I wouldn't follow you Buffy," Giles told her gently. She relaxed slightly, realizing she'd been a bit too defensive. "I just want to know why and where."

"And who." She supplied though the defensiveness was gone. He nodded slightly.

"Yes." He answered. "Am I asking something unreasonable?"

"No, you're not." She shook her head. "Look Giles, I'm hurt and I'm tired and I'm…still reeling. We…we didn't get everybody out." She blinked back the tears as the heartache hit her once more.

"That's not your fault Buffy," Giles laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. She did not want to feel better. She wanted to miss them. She wanted to hurt over Spike. It helped her to know that his life…his death had not been for nothing. As long as there was someone to mourn him, even if it was just one, then that goal was accomplished. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Look Giles, I don't want to talk about this. Not now. How are the others?"

"Still getting looked at, but it appears everyone will live." Giles switched his attention to business which relieved her. "We should be able to leave for Angel's by morning."

"Good," she said with a sigh. "Look I'm going to get some sleep."

"A solid plan," Giles said with a nod. "I'll look in on the girls one more time."

"Thanks." She said tiredly. She was suddenly more exhausted than ever.

* * *

Even though he knew that she was OK, Angel couldn't help but worry about Buffy and wonder why she didn't call from the hospital. Part of him was glad she didn't as he knew if she called he wouldn't be able to help asking her about Spike and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear her answer over the phone. The other part however, hated waiting and wanted to get it over with, even if it meant learning that Buffy had chosen Spike.

Theoretically it shouldn't matter. He and Buffy hadn't been together for years and he had left so that she could choose a relationship that would be able to go further than there's had been able to. It shouldn't matter who she chose. And yet, it did. The idea of her with anybody else had always twisted in his gut, but the very thought of her with Spike was ten times worse. It wasn't that she had chosen him, but rather that Spike had gotten to be with her in ways that he could never be. That Spike of all people was allowed to hold her, to touch her, to lie down beside her…it killed a part of himself. He hoped that it wasn't true…that he was over-reacting, but some part of him knew that she had feelings for him that were stronger than he would like. And he had to wait for her to get there for the definitive answer.

Although tired, he didn't go to bed when the sun rose the next morning. He couldn't. Not only did he have to wait for Buffy, but the hotel itself was filled with people he didn't know, all of them young and newly called slayers. It was nice to have people in the hotel once more before they moved to their new position as head of Wolfram and Hart. He was still getting used to that idea.

He hadn't told any of Buffy's people about the change. He wasn't sure he could explain it in a way they would understand. It was odd. Once he had been a part of Sunnydale. A part of her world. Now there was just her world and his. Her people and his. He wondered when that rift had occurred.

He was jarred out of those particular thoughts by Faith standing in the doorway to his room. He looked up, and motioned for her to come in.

"B's here Angel," she said quietly.

"Thanks," He replied. He felt a new nervousness settle in his chest, as he headed down the stairs to the lobby. He searched the hallway, but didn't see Spike. He saw her though, and immediately wanted to approach her and take her in his arms. There was a sadness on her face that seemed to go all the way down to her soul. He hadn't seen that much grief in her since her mother's death and it worried him.

Behind her, stood Giles, a group of young girls (obviously the other slayers) and a tall black man who seemed to be looking for someone.

"Hey." His voice was quiet and he instantly wished he had said something different, something better. He had never been known for his eloquence, but the moment his eyes met hers, there was a loss of coherence in himself that happened every time he saw her.

"Angel," she seemed equally at a loss for words.

"The others are here," he said, talking quickly and trying to avoid eye contact. The haunted gaze was too much for him. If he wanted to keep himself at a distance he couldn't look at her. Not directly. "There's lots of room."

"Thanks," was her reply. She wouldn't look at him either. She turned to Giles. "Can you take the girls up to the rooms?"

"Certainly," Giles replied sensing she wanted to be alone with Angel. Once they were gone, he looked to her curiously.

"He's the new principal of Sunnydale High school," she supplied anticipating Angel's question about Principal Wood. "He really helped us in the battle."

"Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say. Thankfully she stepped in.

"Look, Angel thank you for taking us all in at such short notice. We…we won't be here much longer, so you don't have to worry."

"It's OK," he said quietly. "I like the company. It's been lonelier here recently." He was suddenly thinking of Connor, his son whom he had also given up to what would hopefully be a better life. He would never see Connor again and even if he did, Connor wouldn't know him. They had never managed to become close as father and son, yet Angel loved him all the same and it ate at him that he had to lose so much in such a short span.

"It won't be for long." She continued talking as if doing so would help to fill the awkward silence that suddenly filled the room.

"You're that eager to leave?" He didn't mean for it to sound as sharp as it did.

"This isn't my town Angel." She replied softly. She seemed so subdued it almost broke his heart.

"Sometimes I think it's not mine either." He replied with a subtle smile. She attempted a halfhearted one in response. "You're OK though?"

"Yea, the doctors stitched me up first thing and my special heal-y abilities have already kicked in." She smiled wanly. "I should be back to normal pretty soon."

"That's not what I meant." He said seriously. She nodded.

"I know."

He took a step towards her, wanting to touch her, but held back. She didn't move away, but he could tell her discomfort grew, the closer he got.

"I don't know what happened to you Buffy," he said, hoping she would fill in the blanks. When she didn't, he sighed and pressed on. "Are you ever going to tell me?"

"Maybe I don't want to talk about it," she said defiantly. He felt his shoulders slump.

"Where's Spike, Buffy?"

She flinched visibly this time as he said his name. Raw pain crossed her features before she could hide it and Angel felt at war with himself. Half of him wanted to comfort her, to take away whatever hurt that lived inside of her. The other half was angry…angry that her feelings for Spike could result in such hurt. It was petty, but he didn't want her to hurt like that for anybody but him.

"I don't want to talk about it Angel. Not to you." She sounded tired now, and in a way that wasn't physical.

"Why?" He barely got the word out. His body didn't want to move, didn't want to do anything that might cause him to hear something he didn't want to.

"Because I can't." She said sadly. "Believe me, I would if I could but…you wouldn't understand."

"You can tell me anything." He was grasping at straws now, but it was as if she were pulling away from him right in front of his eyes and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it.

"Maybe I could before, but not now." She swallowed tightly and looked away. "Not about him."

"You loved him." His voice was flat. Empty.

"Maybe," she whispered.

He felt his fists clench involuntarily. He tried not to feel the anger, but he couldn't keep it from bubbling to the surface.

"Fine." He said coldly. "I get it. Don't worry. Look, if he's waiting outside for you or something you don't have to stay here. My people will look after your slayers and you can do whatever it is you need to do."

"He's not waiting outside for me Angel," she shot back hotly. "He's dead OK?"Angel didn't know what to say. He was all ready to be furious with her, furious that she could love someone that he hated, but looking at the ache in her eyes made it impossible for that anger to come. No matter what the reason, he couldn't stand to see her in pain. And yet, how could he express that, without her knowing that part of him was relieved that Spike was dead?

"I…"

"Don't!" She hissed, suddenly furious. "Don't say you're sorry! Don't lie to me like that…not about this."

"It's not a lie Buffy," he said gently. "I am sorry you are hurting. Do you think I want to see you in pain?"

"Maybe not," she conceded, "but it's certainly better than seeing me with him, isn't it? It's what you're thinking so don't even pretend it's not."

"I don't know what I did to deserve your anger but you're not being fair." He spoke rationally, but it did not serve to calm her.

"I'm not? I'm not? Well I'm sorry that in my grief I didn't give more thought to your feelings." She bit her lip, but did not allow herself to cry. She was closing herself off, he could see it. It hurt immensely, as he had always been the one person she would not do that with.

"What can I say Buffy?" He asked helplessly. "What can I do to make it better?"

"Nothing," she finally whispered, her voice was weak and almost frightened. "You want to know why I'm angry? I know you don't want to hear this Angel, but part of me did love him. The amulet you gave me, I gave to him. It saved us all, but it killed him in the process. He was a hero. And I can't tell anybody. I can't lean on anybody. You used to be the one person who would be there, who would understand me, when nobody else could. And you can't on this one. There's nothing you can say that will seem completely sincere because I know how you felt about him. And I know that me having feelings for him hurts you. I don't want to hurt you like that, don't you see? Not only did I lose him, but you as well and there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"I'm sorry," his voice was ragged now. He was unable to hide the regret. "I know you don't believe it, but I am sorry. I gave you that amulet. I didn't know what it would do, you have to believe me. If I did, I…"

"Don't." She put up her hand to stop him and shut her eyes, trying to block out his words. "Don't play the martyr here Angel, please. Don't tell me that you would have taken his place dying to save the world. I won't believe it."

"Why?" He asked her. "Do you really think that little of me?"

She shook her head swiftly and backed away, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

"No," she looked at him finally, her eyes bright with tears. "But I need to think that much of him. I need him to be a hero Angel. Can you understand that?"

"Yea," he said, a lump forming in his throat. Connor had needed that fantasy as well. Angel had sacrificed everything to give it to him and Buffy meant just as much. If that's what she needed, he would do whatever it took. "I get it. Look, I know you don't want to talk to me about it, but I am here…if you need it. Just…please, believe that."

"I do." She told him with the first genuine smile he had seen since she arrived. "And I will."

"Willow and Xander are upstairs." He told her, taking a step back. "If you want to regroup and plan your next move, you can use one of the hotel conference rooms."

"Thanks." She nodded stiffly and the walls were back up. He sighed and moved out of her way as she headed upstairs to find her friends.


	4. Avengers Assemble

Things were put on hold for a day or two as everybody rested up, and allowed themselves to heal and think. Buffy was not about to force everyone to come with her when she proposed her plan, so she gave everyone the space to think about what they had wanted to do with their lives. She was pretty certain that Willow and Xander would follow her, but in case they didn't, her resolve was certain. She was going to Europe, and she was going to help take care of all the new slayers of the world. She had created them, and they were her responsibility.

Willow and Kennedy kept to themselves, occasionally making the rounds and ensuring that everyone was comfortable and for those more severely hurt in the fight, bringing them drinks and pillows.

Xander stayed in his room, coming out only to eat. It worried Buffy that he had closed himself off so completely, but there was nothing she could do about it. The only person he would talk to was Andrew, and she suspected the reason for that was that he was the only one who had been there when Anya had died.

Dawn stuck to Buffy pretty closely, trying to cheer her out of her funk, but despite her best efforts, she resisted the attempts. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate Dawn's concern, but this was a hurt that Buffy was not ready to let go of yet. She needed it.

Faith and Robin Wood spent most of their time with the new slayers, as they were the ones with the least amount of post-battle emotional baggage. Buffy was grateful for Faith being that person. Once she had been jealous of Faith being able to make the slayers like her better. Now she was relieved that Faith had stepped in to be the likable older slayer. Buffy just didn't have the energy for it. Not yet.

Giles and Wesley had spent a lot of time with one another, Giles filling in on what had been happening in Sunnydale, and Wesley doing likewise for the L.A. gang. Buffy wasn't the only person who noticed the extreme change in Wesley, but he seemed to wear it well, even if there was something a little sinister about the man that hadn't been there before. Too much time in a place like this would harden anybody.

Fred, Gunn, and Lorne all did their best not to get in anybody's way. They weren't close to anybody in particular and there were too many (as Lorne had put it), emotional auras floating around.

Angel spoke to Buffy, but only briefly doing his best to keep his attitude casual, yet available if it became clear that she wanted to talk. She didn't.

After a while, Buffy called a meeting between the core group to discuss what was to be done. Robin, the slayers, and Kennedy were not told about it as she wanted the chance to run it by the original scoobys. Well, the mostly original Scoobys. Andrew had not been there from the beginning, but for some reason he was included.

Once everyone had arrived, she looked around the room preferring to stand as they all took their seats. She felt like a teacher on the first day of school, nervous and unsure of how to present her plan.

"Are we all here?" She closed the door as she asked the question, already knowing the answer.

"All of us that you asked, yea." Faith pointed out. "What's going on?"

"We have to decide what we're going to do." She started.

"From what I understand, you've already decided." Giles pointed out. She didn't like the tone in his voice. Frowning, she addressed him.

"I've decided what I'm going to do Giles. But I don't speak for everyone." He raised an eyebrow as if to say that he didn't believe her, but wisely said nothing. She turned to the others and continued. "Look, we did an amazing thing activating all those slayers, but we can't just leave it at that. Or rather, I can't. I'm the original slayer. I'm the source of their power and I can't just leave them to fend for themselves."

"I agree." Willow said softly. She turned and smiled at her.

"Thanks Will, but you might want to wait till after you've heard my plan." She took a deep breath. "I want to reform the Watcher's council."

"You…what?" Giles sounded shocked.

"Look Giles, I know they weren't exactly the greatest bunch of guys, but they weren't all bad. I mean, I wouldn't have traded you for the world. The organization itself was not a bad idea, just the way it was executed." She faced the others and gathered her thoughts. "I know that you guys are tired, and if you're not on board I understand, but this is what I think needs to be done, so hear me out."

"Before you convince yourself that we're all going to say no, why don't you finish what you were saying," Faith encouraged her. "Cause at the moment, what you're saying is makin' a lotta sense."

"What I'm saying is that these girls need watchers. Not the kind the council trained, but real watchers who care about their slayers and teach them. I can be that, but I can't be everywhere. Now, I want to go to Europe and reform the slayer branch of the council. I know some watchers there who are willing to help me do it. I would love it if you guys came too, but I will understand if you don't want to. You can have a normal life now and I wouldn't demand that anyone give that up, no matter how much I'd miss you."

"I don't know about you guys, but I feel that fighting evil is my true calling." Andrew said with an enthusiastic smile. "I'm in Buffy, wherever you go."

"Let's backup just a moment before we all start to pack." Giles suggested carefully. He looked curious. "What did you mean Buffy about the slayer 'branch' and about knowing watchers in Europe? Everybody died in that explosion."

"Everybody in the slayer branch." Buffy clarified. She sighed. She had been hoping Giles had knowledge of the other half of the council. "The watcher's council has two different branches. One was for slayer, but the other was for immortals."

"Immortals?" Xander echoed. "Like…vampires?"

"No, like…immortals." She sighed and proceeded to explain to the others about immortals, their watchers and the game. She even mentioned Methos in the explanation, though she didn't call him by that name. He had not given her permission to tell her friends of his true identity. When she had finished, Giles was looking at her with wide eyes.

"Buffy what you are proposing will change everything that the council has ever known."

"Yea, well I've already changed the slayers, why not the council too?" She didn't mean for it to sound sarcastic, but it had anyway.

"This is a huge undertaking Buffy, are you sure you and your friend Adam are up for it?" He still sounded skeptical.

"Adam isn't the only one who will be involved in this," she said tiredly. "I have more than enough help on the Europe front. What I need to know is if I have any here."

"You have me Buffy," Willow said softly. She smiled. "You know that."

"And me." Xander added, although his smile was a bit weaker. "You're the slayer and we're like the slayerettes."

Buffy smiled, feeling a lump form in her throat at the familiarity of those words. She looked to Giles apprehensively.

"You know I won't say no." He said quietly. "For one thing I'm too curious."

"Count me in as well B." Faith said.

"Good," she said, relaxing visibly. "Great. Thanks guys…for everything."

"So what now?" Xander wondered. "Do we saddle up?"

"We do," Buffy replied with a nod. "But we don't all go to the same place."

"Oh?" Faith raised an eyebrow.

"We're gonna need different people doing different things." Buffy told them, warming to the plan and hoping they would too. "I'll need some of you as field agents, but I want you to go in teams. Since you performed the spell Willow, my guess is you have the strongest connection and would be able to find them the easiest. You go wherever you can find slayers and you send them to me. You can take Kennedy with you. Faith, I'll need you in that capacity as well to cover more ground. You can take Robin with you. Giles I want you in England. I need you to gain access to a place we can use for Watcher's headquarters for the new slayer branch. I'll also need you to act as a liaison between the two branches. Andrew I want you to go with him. Xander I want you with Dawn and I. We'll be acting as ambassadors to the Immortal branch. Plus if any slayers need finding in that neck of the woods we'll be t here. We'll be sending the existing slayers with Giles to England to be trained at the new headquarters. How does that sound to everyone?"

She finally stopped to look around at the others who stared at her in what she hoped was awe.

"It sounds like you've thought it all through Buffy." Dawn finally spoke up. "But what's my job supposed to be?"

"Going to school," Buffy replied firmly. Before Dawn could protest she raised a hand. "I know you want to help Dawnie and you can, but I need you to finish high school. I think you have what it takes to be a first rate Watcher, but no slayer will pay attention to a Watcher without a high school diploma."

"Alright Buffy." Dawn agreed. Buffy was surprised it had been that easy, but said nothing.

"What about the rest of you? What do you think?" She was anxious, but tried not to let it show. So much of this being successful rested on her being able to pull this off.

"I think it's a solid plan Buffy." Giles finally replied. "And I think I speak for the rest of us."

The others nodded their agreement and Buffy felt the first real smile form on her face in a long time. She suddenly wanted to put the plan into action as soon as possible.

"Then let's get ready," she said. "We have a lot of work to do."


	5. A Moment to Forget

It was a few days and one or two phone calls to Paris before Buffy and her group of new slayers were ready to travel. She had managed to scrounge up enough money to get most of them there, but had to rely on Methos to wire her the rest. She could have mentioned it to Angel, but for some reason she felt better taking money from Methos than Angel. She knew he would do it, regardless of whether they were getting along at the moment, but it felt wrong to her to ask him for something when they weren't on the best of terms. This was far less messy.

She gave Angel only the barest of answers when he questioned her about her plans, feeling guilty when she did so, but unable to talk to him more than was necessary. Every time she looked at him, she felt guilty and she wasn't even sure why anymore. Part of it was guilt over missing Spike. Part of it was guilt that she could still feel that familiar and deep affection for Angel while missing Spike. It was very confusing so she opted for the less confusing option of avoiding Angel entirely. It was childish, certainly, but sometimes acting like an adult wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

She made several attempts to talk to Xander on a more personal basis, but he was unresponsive. She hoped that he would talk to Willow more confidentially at least if he wouldn't talk to her. It was clear he was hurting pretty badly, but shutting everybody around him out. She knew that was the quickest way to a personal breakdown and he had been through so much already.

The slayers for the most part were excited to be going to Europe. Most of them seemed to view this as some sort of extended vacation, and Buffy was happy that they seemed to be OK with it. It had been a long hard battle and a horrible way to introduce them to their birthright, but as long as they kept their spirits up and were there for one another, she had high hopes that they would all become excellent slayers. She was hoping they would use their early experience in the field to help the other slayers that she intended to find and train.

Eventually everything was ready and they were all more than ready to leave the Hyperion and move on. Buffy had a feeling that they wouldn't be able to stay too long anyway. She had noticed significant looks passing between Angel and his people and had overheard something said by the green skinned demon about moving shop. She hadn't asked them about it, partly because it was none of her business and partly because she was avoiding Angel, but she wondered what had happened here in the previous year. Angel didn't seem to be his usual self when she did encounter him and it worried her.

The airport was busy and she was having a hard time keeping track of the entire group, they were so large and spread out. She had said a terse good bye to Angel in the hotel, and now she was feeling guilty over not cutting him a little more slack. He deserved more, especially since he had done nothing but try to be there for her. The problem was, that he was no longer what she needed. Not in this case anyway and she wasn't sure how to deal with that.

Eventually it came time to board the plane. Buffy had decided that although they would eventually be going in separate directions, it made more sense for all of them to go to Paris first. They would meet Methos there, and she, Xander and Dawn would head back to his place while the others would catch the connecting flight to England with Giles to search for a new place to set up the slayer branch of the watcher's council. Willow would locate the slayers there and send the teams out from the England base. Buffy would be working with Methos and Joe to help the transition and to get Watcher volunteers if the slayers became too many.

She held back, making sure all of her friends and slayers were on the plane before she looked to Dawn, nodded and headed to the terminal gate. She was about to step in when she heard someone calling her name. The voice was as familiar to her as her own soul. She wanted to ignore him, to turn around, get on the plane and call Angel later and apologize. She could always make up some excuse; say she never heard him call her name. But despite her will, her body had a mind of its own and it was already responding to him. Dawn went ahead of her, leaving her standing there, facing Angel and utterly unnerved in his presence. She wasn't sure if he expected her to apologize or if he had come to do that very thing himself.

"What are you doing here?" It was the only thing she could think to say.

"I…I didn't like the way we said good bye." He looked at her shyly, almost as if he was a young man, insecure and awkward. It was a false image. Angel had not been young for a very long time. Despite those centuries, the insecurity was genuine. It was always that way when he was near her, and Buffy knew that. It warmed her slightly to know she still had this effect on him.

"Me either." Her voice was hoarse and tentative. "But nothing has changed Angel. I didn't want to…when I look at you, I feel miles apart. You may not be judging me, or my feelings for him, but it feels like you are. And I don't know how to get past that."

"We don't need to right now, do we?" He looked at her with near desperation in his eyes. "We don't need to fix everything now. You're still cookie dough, still baking remember? I understand that you need time, I just…I just wish you'd let me touch you. I wish you'd let me in, even just a little."

"Angel…" she didn't mean to move into his arms. It wasn't the plan, but all of a sudden, she was there, and she was safe and whole again. It was an illusion, and they both knew it, but for thirty seconds she allowed herself that illusion, allowed herself to pretend that nothing existed other than the two of them…that sorrow, or grief couldn't touch her. And then as soon as that feeling had come, it was gone again, replaced with the knowledge that she had allowed herself to forget Spike and her pain just for one moment in Angel's arms. The guilt overwhelmed her and as she looked into his eyes, she knew he sensed it.

"I'm sorry," he told her softly. He moved back, allowing her her space. Reaching out with his hand, he caressed her cheek softly, her entire face fitting neatly into his large palm. She closed her eyes and tried to fight back the tears. "I know you loved him Buffy, but I love you too. Call me when you're ready, OK? I'll always be here."

She nodded, unable to respond to him and turned away, making it all the way to the gate before she allowed a tear to roll down her cheek. The attendant at the gate smiled sympathetically. It comforted her a little bit.

By the time she took her seat next to Dawn, she was dry eyed again, having pushed her pain into the corner of her heart she had reserved for hiding her emotions. It was a slayer trick she had learned after being brought back to life by Willow. She allowed her face to slip into the mask of isolation, refusing to deal with anything but the in-flight movie and the overly salted peanuts that were provided. She would grieve later.

Her sister looked at her expectantly and she felt herself smiling a fake smile she was sure Dawn could see through.

"He just wanted to say good bye," she told Dawn. "I'm fine, really."

"Yea, sure." Her sister sounded disappointed that Buffy did not want to talk, but refused to press the issue. The plane soon took off, and Buffy allowed herself to lean back in the seat, let her shoulders release some of the pent-up tension she had been feeling since the town sunk into the hole and fall asleep for the rest of the flight to Paris.


	6. Chapter's Close

She awoke to her sister shaking her gently by the shoulder and rubbed her eyes blearily as she struggled for focus. The seatbelt light was on, and it was dark.

"We're landing," Dawn told her unnecessarily. Buffy nodded. "Is this Adam guy meeting us in the airport?"

"Yea, he should be near the baggage claim." Buffy told her, feeling her spirits suddenly pick up as she realized that she would soon be seeing Methos for the first time in five years. She allowed herself that excitement, and a slight bit of nervousness as the large group exited the plane.

Her heart dropped slightly however, as she reached the baggage claim and did not see him. The others had already begun grabbing for their luggage and Giles was desperately trying to make sure that all the girls got their bags without fighting over whose was whose. Buffy smiled at that, but felt a bit anxious as she looked around and saw no trace of Methos. Maybe he had forgotten? Or gotten the time wrong?

"Where's your friend?" Willow was suddenly at her side and Buffy was forced to shrug.

"I'm not sure." She picked up her cell phone and was about to dial his number, when a feeling coursed through her that she hadn't felt in five years. The 'buzz' that signaled another immortal's presence. She had acquired it having passed through the veil of death when she died the first time, however having since died once more the buzz was stronger now, almost knocking her back a foot or two.

"What is it?" Willow asked, noticing how shaken she must look. She recovered herself and smiled, her heart soaring.

"Nothing. He's here."

And sure enough, as she turned, she could see his familiar frame walking towards her. Her palms were suddenly unnervingly sweaty and as he came into view, she felt her heart almost stop completely. Her memory of him hadn't done him justice.

His tall lithe, frame weaved through the crowd with expert grace and deftness that only centuries of practice could achieve. He wore a warm, inviting smile and as he got closer his hazel eyes twinkled with affection. She felt her heart skip a beat.

He was wearing one of his trademark fisherman's sweaters and a snug fitting pair of blue jeans. Beside her, Willow whispered softly under her breath.

"Wow, if I wasn't dating a girl…" She looked over at Buffy. "How come you didn't mention he was a total hottie?"

Buffy had no answer for her. She couldn't remember ever finding him this attractive. She remembered that he had been handsome, but not to this degree. And as if spurred on by some other force, she stepped forward into his welcoming arms for one of the tightest bear hugs outside of anybody that didn't have slayer strength.

"I'm so glad to see you," he whispered, the warm Welsh accent tickling her ear. "I can't believe you're actually here."

She pulled back, unable to help the ear-to-ear grin that now spread over her face.

"I'm glad to be here," she replied, suddenly shy. "I missed you."

She stepped back and he looked her over, taking in the changes that had occurred in her since he last saw her.

She was older, that much was obvious to him. She was also much thinner, but it wasn't an unhealthy look. Her body was leaner, more muscular, more like that of a warrior's. He liked it. Her hair was long, and silky and her green eyes glowed with both weariness and triumph. It was a look he remembered seeing after she had defeated the immortal vampire Klossen and he felt his heart swell with pride just as it had then. She had truly made it. The young girl was gone and in her place was a seasoned warrior-a slayer who had defied convention and changed the world.

She had been a young girl when he had known her, frightened and determined to escape. Now he found himself looking at the woman she had become and felt all the feelings for her rush back to him, magnified ten-fold. She was magnificent.

He was about to tell her as much when the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her, brought the two of them out of their own private reunion. A group of people were standing behind the slayer. They were obviously the people she had mentioned.

The first person he noticed was a thin, striking red head standing next to the slayer. She had a feeling about her, that made him shiver. It wasn't the feeling he got when coming into contact with an immortal, but it was power of a sort. She was different. She held the hand of another girl, who stood with confidence and grace. Behind her, stood a young girl, only about seventeen in age, but taller than Buffy. Her hair was straight, brown and silky and she stared at the slayer in a way that spoke of extreme familiarity.

A young man stood next to the dark haired girl, wearing an eye patch and a flannel shirt. Methos wondered if the eye patch was a fashion statement, or necessity but didn't ask him. The look on the young man's face suggested he might not like the answer.

To the left of Buffy stood an older man, probably in his late forties with a jacket made of soft leather and blue jeans. Methos assumed he was Buffy's Watcher. He suppressed the urge to go up to the man and shake his hand to tell him what an amazing slayer he had raised.

Beside the man, stood an incredibly attractive dark haired girl in revealing clothes and heavy makeup. Despite the bold outfit, her entire being seemed to vibrate with insecurity and fear. The tall, black man at her side seemed to sense that, but looked at a loss as to what to do about it.

"Is he the 'contact' you spoke of?" A hesitant voice asked from behind the dark haired girl. A young blond man stepped forward and looked at him, then nodded as if in approval. "He does indeed have a certain Han Solo-esque feel about him."

"I should introduce everyone." Buffy was saying, her cheeks reddening slightly as she realized her error. Behind her, a small group of girls was approaching, each carrying their bags.

"This is Willow," she said pointing to the red head. She smiled shyly and Methos decided he liked her, despite the power that prickled at his skin as if in warning. Buffy continued the introductions, pointing to each person as she did so. "And this is my sister Dawn. This is Xander, my Watcher Giles, Willow's girlfriend Kennedy, Faith, Robin Wood, and Andrew. Behind me, are the group of girls I mentioned. I know this will sound strange, but they are all slayers."

That caused him to blink in surprise as he looked once more at the girls. Almost like magic, he saw the truth of what she had just told him. The way they stood, the way they moved told him they were indeed slayers. Some of them were new-very new, but slayers nonetheless. Warriors. _There can be only one._ The phrase didn't just apply to immortals. He opened his mouth to ask how this could possibly have happened, but Buffy cut him off, anticipating the question.

"I will explain it all later, I promise." She assured him. "And don't worry, they're not all coming back with us. In fact Giles is taking them to England with him on a connecting flight tonight. I wanted you to meet them all though, cause they're part of something I did and I needed you to see it for yourself."

"You made this happen?" He questioned, awed by the enormity of what he was looking at.

"Yea, kind of." She shrugged. "I destroyed a town too y'know. It's been a busy couple of days."

He laughed richly and she smiled revealing a fraction of her weariness.

"Guys, this is Adam Pierson." She turned to her friends. "Sorry I didn't do the intro thing. I'm really exhausted."

"We all are Buffy," Giles told her gently. "And I hate to leave so soon, but…"

She got the hint. They would miss their flight if they stood in the lobby too much longer. Methos seemed to get the hint as well, as he moved back to allow Buffy to say good bye to those who were leaving.

Buffy looked at Willow, Giles, and the others and sighed heavily. She wasn't sure when she would see them all again and that saddened her a great deal. For the first time in seven years the group she had fought alongside would be broken up and scattered throughout Europe. She knew they had to go on their separate paths, but the thought of losing her best friend and her watcher after the ordeal they had already gone through caused a lump to form in her throat. She was suddenly very glad that Xander and Dawn were staying with her.

"I'm really gonna miss you Buffy." Willow was saying to her. She looked like she was about to cry too. "We've been best friends for so long and now…"

She trailed off, but she didn't need to finish. Buffy understood. Seven years of fighting the forces of darkness and now they would be separated. Who knew for how long? She reached out and hugged her friend tightly, promising to call her the moment they were settled.

She moved back from Willow and turned to Giles who was smiling at her, tired but proud. She smiled back, allowing the previous tension to be forgotten. She was saying good bye to him again and she would not let that be ruined by their disagreements in the field. What was done was done for now.

"I shall miss you greatly as well Buffy," Giles told her warmly. "You know how proud of you I am."

"Thanks," she said hoarsely. "Take care of them Giles…please? I feel like I'm abandoning them."

"You're trying to help them." He said firmly. "They know that. And I swear to you that I will not let your trust be misplaced."

"Giles…" she began to tell him that what had happened before with Spike was forgotten, but found herself unable to get the words out. It wasn't and it never could be. She did trust him, that much was true. But it wasn't the same thing. She was able to forgive, but not forget. She would always know that a darkness lay inside her watcher that she had never thought to exist before. And that hurt. Luckily he saved her from her inability to reassure him, by interrupting her.

"You don't have to say anything Buffy." He sighed. "I know you miss him. And I'm sorry."

At the mention of Spike, a fresh flood of tears threatened to overwhelm her, so much so that all she could do was nod and turn to the next person waiting to say good bye to her. It was Faith. She suddenly felt awkward.

"I'll see you around?" She offered it hesitatingly, still not quite sure where she stood with the other slayer. Faith smiled at her, and she found herself relaxing. She didn't know if they could ever exist in the same world together, but at least they had reached a kind of peace.

"You bet B," Faith said, trying to keep it casual. She gestured to Methos and grinned suddenly. "And damn is that one tasty! Don't let him slip."

She laughed slightly and was about to tell Faith they were just friends, but decided that was a longer conversation and they didn't have that much time. Instead, she simply nodded.

She didn't say good bye to Robin or Kennedy formally, but both of them smiled at her and nodded their heads allowing the words to be exchanged silently. Andrew was the last and he looked at her hopefully.

"Bye Andrew." She said, with surprising affection for the little nerd. He brightened instantly and then quickly re-arranged his expression to a more serious one. He raised his hand.

"Good bye, slayer of the vampyres." He intoned solemnly. "Always remember to use the force."

"Err, I'll do that." She replied, unsure of how to respond.

Looking at all the girls standing there, the slayers that had survived, Buffy was suddenly at a loss. She didn't know them well enough for individual good byes. Some of them, she wasn't even sure of their names. Off hand, she knew of Vi and Rona, but the others….

With some chagrin, she realized that Faith had been right about her treatment of the young girls. She felt guilty for not knowing them better. She could send them out to die, but she couldn't offer them a proper farewell.

Thankfully she was saved by Giles looking at his watch and announcing they had to leave. She looked back at the girls and managed a wave, before they began to file after him. She turned to where Xander and Dawn were standing only to see Xander and Willow locked in a fierce embrace. She swallowed tightly. She had forgotten that as hard as it would be for her to be apart from those she loved, it was ten times harder for Willow to say good bye to Xander. They had been best friends since childhood.

She stepped backwards, almost bumping into Methos in the process and allowed for the two of them to say their good byes. They hugged once more before Willow ran to catch up with Giles and the others.

As she watched her best friend, watcher and slayers walk away from her she felt a deep and profound sadness descend on her. A chapter in her life had been closed and from now on, nothing would ever be the same. She looked over at Dawn and Xander and saw that they too understood perfectly how she was feeling. Silently, they embraced one another, hugging each other and sharing their pain, just as they always had until they finally pulled back. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Methos watching them, empathy written all over his face. If anybody knew what it was like to lose one's family it was the world's oldest man.

Without a word, he reached out a hand to Buffy and she took it, allowing him to lead the remaining group out of the airport and towards their new life.


	7. A Shoulder to Cry On

Methos' place in Paris was not an apartment like the one in Seacouver. He told her that he used to own one, but after quitting the Watcher's Council, he saw no need to keep up the pretense of Adam Pierson's poverty and bought a three bedroom home. He also had a large basement that he told her could serve as an extra bedroom complete with a pull-out couch.

Both Xander and Dawn were asleep in the back of his Range Rover, exhausted from the flight as he explained this. Buffy decided that she would take the basement and Dawn and Xander could have the two other bedrooms. The idea of an entire basement to herself appealed to her.

She barely took the time to glance out the window as the city of Paris flew by them. It had been so long since she'd talked with Methos that she focused all her attention to staying awake so that she could talk to him. Looking at him in profile as he spoke kept her mind off of so many other things, Spike in particular. It still hurt so much.

She woke Xander and Dawn up when they reached their destination and the four weary travelers trudged inside Methos' home, rubbing their eyes as they adjusted to the lights.

"Your beds are all made up," he told Dawn and Xander. "I put some extra sleeping bags in them, as well as the basement and the living room. I thought I might be housing more people than this."

"We might need them yet," Buffy told him. "Things aren't exactly set in stone right now." She stretched and yawned at the same time. All that sleeping on the plane and she was still exhausted.

"You should all get your rest," Methos told them. "I'll show you where the rooms are."

He gave Buffy a look that told her he would be back for her in a moment, and gestured for Dawn and Xander to follow him. They did so, too bleary to speak and Buffy was left standing in his living room, just as she had been five years ago.

It was decorated much the same way as the other apartment had been, although the furniture was different and so were some of the wall coverings. His CD collection and bookshelf varied greatly from before as well, leaving Buffy to wonder if he kept houses like this, furnished and stocked with his favourite things all over the world. He had a vast amount of tastes, and they were showcased in this one simple living room. He had the money, so it made sense that he would need many places to keep everything. It was an enviable thought, especially after all the money trouble Buffy had gone through after her mother died.

_At least Dawn will be provided for while we stay here, _she thought idly though she knew she could not impose on Methos' generosity for too long, no matter how good of a friend he was.

The sound of his feet touching the carpet as he descended the stairs brought her out of her reverie and she smiled when he came into view.

"It's a nice place." She told him. He shrugged as if to say _it's OK for now._

"I figured you would want the basement, so there's something on the couch down there for you." He told her, motioning for her to follow him. Her face brightened.

"Oooh, present!"

The basement was a cozy little room, with plush carpets, a couch, television with DVD player and VCR as well as stereo system, and appropriate cabinets and drawers. On the couch which was already pulled out, was a small box, wrapped neatly with a ribbon tied around it.

When she reached it, she eagerly ripped off the paper, then laughed when she saw what was inside. It was an English to French translation dictionary.

"I figured you would need it, since you were always telling me how bad you were in French." He spoke seriously, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. She laughed.

"Thanks. I'll need this, believe me." She grinned and put it back on the couch. He walked over to the drawers and opened them. Inside were various items of clothing, some with the price tags still on them.

"I bought some clothes for you." He told her in explanation. "I figured since you said you had nothing…." He trailed off and shrugged once more.

She walked over to the drawer and began to pull out some of the items one by one.

"I think I remembered your size right," he continued as she looked through them. "Although my actual fashion sense might leave something to be desired."

She smiled and opened the top drawer, only to close it again, face reddening as she discovered various pairs of bras and panties inside. Methos sensed her embarrassment and blushed as well.

"I had to get you everything." He said in explanation.

"You didn't," she said, allowing the gratefulness she felt to enter her voice. "You didn't have to do any of this. I…I don't know when I can pay you back, but thank you."

"These are gifts Buffy," he murmured. "Payment isn't necessary. We can go shopping tomorrow for Xander and Dawn as well. I didn't know how many were coming so I couldn't buy stuff for everyone."

"Don't worry about Dawn, she'll just steal my stuff." Buffy said lightly, attempting a joke. His lips quirked upwards in a half smile, but his eyes remained serious.

"I know you're tired, but…" he paused, trying to think of a proper way to form his words. "Do you want to talk? About anything? I'm not asking for a full play-by-play on the 101 slayers, but you sounded pretty…upset on the phone."

"Lots of people died a few days ago," Buffy said quietly, refusing to meet the concern in his eyes. He had been so wonderful to her that it took almost everything inside her, not to break down in his arms right there and sob until she had nothing left. Instead, she forced a smile.

"Friends of yours," he said softly. She nodded and bit her lip. He touched her shoulder. "And maybe someone else…a man you cared about?"

"Spike," she whispered, the word barely audible. "He saved us. He sacrificed himself to save the world."

"And you loved him." He reached out and gently cupped her chin, tipping her face to look him in the eye. She was trying desperately to hold her emotions in check. She did not want to break down in front of him. She wasn't the same fragile girl he had known five years ago. She had hardened herself, learned to put up walls so that others couldn't see her pain. It was a survival tactic, something that had kept her alive, kept her a good slayer.

But Methos didn't care about any of that. He wanted to be there for her like he had been before, to comfort her. He could see the hurt that lie across her face, plain as day and it tore at him. She was different in so many ways and yet she still wore her heart on her sleeve for those that knew where to look.

"I don't want to talk about this," she was saying as she tried to turn away. He gripped her shoulders firmly, refusing to let her go.

"Buffy please don't shut me out." He took a deep breath. "I know you're hurting. I just want to help you."

"What if you can't?" She looked up at him, eyes wide, searching for answers that she knew he couldn't' give. "I feel like I'm the only one Methos. The only one who knew him, who can grieve for him, who loved him. The others…they can't understand and you didn't know him…"

"I know you," he told her gently. "I know your capacity to love. I know you would do anything for someone you cared about."

"He didn't even know." She continued. He wasn't even sure she had heard him. "I told him before he died, and he didn't believe me. I don't think he wanted to. I should have told him sooner, but I couldn't. My stupid pride kept me from it. And he'll never know. He'll never know that the only other person I ever said that to was Angel. Not even Riley…"

She trailed off, and looked up at Methos suddenly, tears glistening in her eyes. She started to tremble and he watched as days of grief, hardship, pain and sacrifice caught up to her all at once. He pulled her closer.

"Sssh, it's OK." He murmured, trailing a finger down her cheek. "Go ahead Buffy, it's OK. I'm here."

"Methos…" her voice was little more than a ragged whisper as the sobs overtook her. For the first time since they closed the Sunnydale Hellmouth, Buffy Summers allowed herself to truly grieve. She let the pain of those she had lost course through her, allowed the tears to flow down her cheeks and onto Methos' sweater. She felt his strong arms wrap around her, and felt safe in a way she hadn't in a good long while. Nothing could touch her here and now. He would shelter her, hold her, and not think any less of her for breaking down.

She was the slayer, but he also knew she was a person. He understood her vulnerabilities and she understood his.

His heart broke for the young woman who cried against his chest, so fiercely. He had wanted nothing more than to see her again, but not like this. Not for this reason. Everything she knew was gone. Her town, friends, a lover?

He had always been in awe of her for her resilience, but to escape such devastation, with only her friends and the clothes on her back was truly a remarkable thing. He was grateful beyond words that it was him she could turn to when it got to be too much to handle. She would never know how much that meant to him.

Finally, after she had felt she had no more tears to shed, she backed up from him, sniffling and allowing a little embarrassment to creep over her face.

"Every time I see you it seems all I do is cry all over you about someone else."

"Sure makes a guy feel loved," he joked, trying to alleviate some of the tension. "I'm sorry if I pushed you, but you looked like you needed that."

"I did," she told him with a shuddered breath. "Thank you."

"We'll talk more tomorrow." He promised as he turned to head upstairs. "And you can tell me all about how you managed to create your band of slayers."

"G'night Methos," she said as she allowed herself another yawn. "Thanks for the underwear."

"A phrase I always hoped to hear from you slayer," he teased as he headed for the door. "Sleep well."


	8. Coming Undone

Author's Note: In my world, Richie Ryan did not die on Highlander. It was a stupid storyline and one I refuse to acknowledge. He is alive and well in this story and will remain so. Also, since Highlander ended in 1996 and Buffy started in 1997, then I am working on the assumption that the Highlander finale (minus Richie being dead) had already occurred when Buffy first met Methos in "Running on Empty". Everything that happened on that show has already occurred, including Alexa's death. Hope that doesn't confuse anybody. Thanks for all the thoughtful reviews so far!

* * *

Buffy slept in for the first time in a good long while, reveling in the lack of potentials, and other disasters that had demanded her attention for almost a year now.

At noon she entered the living room and was surprised at the sight that greeted her.

Dawn and Methos sat together eating cereal and laughing as if they were old friends. She watched as the two of them both went for the prize at the bottom of the cereal box at the exact same time and chuckled to herself. Methos' mind could be delightfully juvenile sometimes.

They both looked up at the sound of her laughter and smiled. Buffy sat down between them and watched as Methos reluctantly handed the decoder ring over to Dawn.

"She's awake," Dawn said with a meaningful look towards Methos.

"You win," Methos said with a sigh. Dawn beamed. Buffy was suddenly suspicious.

"Win what?"

"Adam and I had a bet on what time you'd wake up this morning. He said one, but I totally called noon." Dawn reached a hand out to him triumphantly. "You owe me five bucks…or is it Euros?"

"No he doesn't!" Buffy exclaimed, unable to believe that her sister would demand something like that after all he had done for them already. Methos simply laughed.

"Actually I suggested the bet," he admitted with a shrug. "I'm willing to take my lumps."

She sighed, feeling outgunned and reached for the cereal.

"Where's Xander?" She wondered as she poured herself a bowl.

"Not up yet," Dawn replied between mouthfuls. "But he better be soon if we want to get to the stores on time."

"The stores?" She blinked, feeling more lost than ever.

"For clothes!" Dawn chirped happily. "Xander and I don't have any, so Adam promised to give Xander his car to take me shopping. I've never been shopping in Paris!"

"This is too much," she said firmly, uncomfortable with the idea of not being able to provide these things for Dawn herself. Underneath the table, she felt Methos take her hand and squeeze it gently.

"It's OK," he told her. "Money is never something I've had to care about."

"That's right, he's loaded!" Dawn exclaimed eagerly. "He was telling me about all the different places he has houses, and apartments, and bank accounts…how old are you anyway?"

"It's not the money," she insisted. She looked over at him, wishing that the two of them were alone for this. "I am supposed to take care of her."

"And you have," he replied. "You saved the world Buffy. There's no way I can compete with that. You've carried her this far. Let me carry you for a while."

She stared at him, wanting to tell him that she was her own woman, that she didn't need anybody, but the truth was she did. Much as she hated to admit it, she had nothing. No job, no actual home, no parents or even her Watcher to turn to when things really got rough. It would be fine if it were just her-she'd manage. But she was in charge of Dawn now and if it meant swallowing her pride for a while until she was back on her feet, she could do that. And looking at him, she couldn't bear to tell him she didn't want his help. Everything inside him seemed to be silently saying _let me help you. _Finally, she nodded and Dawn let out a whoop.

"Shopping in Paris!"

"Nothing too expensive!" She said sternly. "There's gotta be like a French version of Wal-Mart around here. Find it."

Dawn pouted slightly, but didn't argue. Eventually, she got impatient enough to run upstairs to wake Xander, who trudged down behind her, looking awake, but incredibly haggard. There was a redness under his eye that troubled Buffy and she wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all last night.

Dawn seemed too excited about the shopping to notice and within the half hour, they had left, leaving Buffy and Methos alone in the house.

"He seems rather withdrawn," Methos commented. Buffy nodded.

"That eye patch is not cause he wants to be a pirate." She replied glibly, although her attempt at casual didn't fool him.

"How did it happen?"

"He was protecting the girls. They didn't have their powers yet and Xander got in the way of the First's right hand man." Buffy grimaced at the memory. "He's had it real rough. When Sunnydale fell, someone he loved fell with it."

"He won't talk about it?" Methos asked, although he already knew the answer. Buffy shook her head.

"He seems to have graduated from the Buffy Summers school of self isolation." She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, slumping onto his couch. "I wish I knew how to talk to him. The only person that ever really did was Willow, and she's in England. Maybe he should have gone with them."

"Maybe," Methos acknowledged, "but you can't turn back now. All you can do is try to help him however you can."

"Yea, well maybe I'm not the best one for him to talk to." She shook her head ruefully. "I haven't exactly made the greatest choices lately."

"Brooding doesn't become you. You're starting to sound like Mac," he teased her gently. She scowled at him. "Tell me about the slayers. How did that happen?"

Buffy stood up from the couch and went down stairs, only to emerge moments later with the Scythe that Willow had enchanted to give the slayers their power.

"Recognize this?" She asked him. His eyes widened as he took in the sight.

"No," he replied, "but from the look of it, I can tell it's older than I am. Where did you get that?"

Buffy took a deep breath and proceeded to tell him about her meeting with the one of the ancient Guardians, and the magic that the Scythe seemed to possess for every slayer who held it. She told him of Caleb, how the first had managed to imbue him with some of its powers and how Buffy had asked Willow to use the slayer's essence in the weapon to give every young slayer her powers. When she was done telling her story, he whistled softly.

"You really did change the world," he murmured appreciatively. "All those slayers, and meeting the Guardians…"

"You knew who they were, didn't you?" She asked him. "From before. When you wanted me to fight Klossen, you told me a bit about the origins of the Watcher's Council, but you left that part out. Why?"

"Honestly, I didn't think it was important." He shrugged. "I wasn't even completely sure they were real. I suppose I get to tell Joe now that they were."

"You do, and you have a shiny weapon to prove it." She held up the Scythe again and watched as Methos stared at it in wonder.

"What is it you're going to do now?" He wondered. "You said you had a plan."

"I do, but I want Joe and Duncan in the same room when I tell it." She replied. "I don't want to have to repeat it a bunch of times. I was thinking we could all meet somewhere later on?"

"Joe has a Blues Bar here in Paris." Methos told her, nodding his head. "When Dawn and Xander get back I'll give him a call. Richie is here too y'know."

"Good," Buffy said with a smile. "I missed everyone."

"They missed you too," Methos assured her. "And you never know, maybe Duncan will be able to help Xander through his grief. Mac's way better with sympathy and comfort than I am."

Buffy doubted that, wanting to tell him how amazing he had been when she really needed him, but refrained. She doubted that Methos could be there for Xander the same way and she knew that he was right in that Mac did have a natural ability to empathize with people's pain. He had also lost his beloved Tessa, so it wasn't as if he didn't know what it felt like to senselessly lose someone he loved.

"I don't know if Xander will talk to anybody, but it's worth a try."

* * *

Buffy waited until Xander and Dawn returned before calling Willow's cell phone. She wasn't sure where they had decided to stay for the time being, given that there was no way Giles' small apartment that he kept there could possibly accommodate all of them, even if some of them weren't staying.

That being the case, the only number she could possibly call with any certainty was Willow's cell. Luckily she picked up on the second ring.

"Buffy?" Willow's voice was a bit crackly and the roaming charges were probably astronomical, but she could hear her and that was the main thing.

"It's me Will. Hang up, and call me back at this number." She rattled off Methos' number and hung up the phone. Moments later, it rang.

"Is this better?" Willow's voice was clearer now. Buffy nodded, though she couldn't see it.

"Yea, I just figured that your cell was probably a bad way to talk. Where are you?"

"A hotel just outside of the old Council Headquarters," she replied.

"Is Giles there?" Buffy wondered.

"No, he went out to check and make sure all the girls were settled in." Willow told her. "Have you made contact with the Council where you are?"

"Not yet, I'll be doing that tonight." Buffy said as she ran her hand through her hair. "You don't have to worry about this end Will, what you guys need to concentrate on is finding a new space to use for the Council. I assume that the building they used to use is kinda…rubbly."

"Well, yes and no." Willow said with a touch of humour in her voice. Buffy frowned.

"Yes and no? I don't get it."

"Well it did get blown up," she said, "but nobody knows it. It turns out there's a spell on the building…one that's been there ever since it was built way back in the twelfth century. Basically the spell is designed so that if anything were to happen to the building, nobody would ever know it. It's like a giant glamour. The building is in ruins, but to everyone walking past it, it still appears perfectly intact."

"So how does that help us?" She wondered. "I mean, glamour or not, it's still a pile of rubble."

"It is, but this spell also has an interesting side effect. I've contacted the coven here that helped me before and we should be able to use the spell to help reconstruct the building. It should be good as new in about a week…maybe two."

"Wow," Buffy said whistling softly. She had been worried that finding another space for Council's Headquarters would be there biggest problem, and now it looked as if it were barely a blip, all thanks to Willow. "Good job Will. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd figure something out," Willow assured her. Buffy could almost hear her blushing.

"How is everybody?" She asked, changing the subject. "How are the slayers?"

"They're good Buffy," Willow told her. "They are so excited to be in England and they're all really eager to begin their training. But we're gonna need more Watchers. I mean, once we reconstruct the building and I start sending the others out to find slayers we're gonna be over-run with people to train."

"I know, I'm working on the Watcher angle on this end," she promised. "I know a few people who I am sure will be willing to help."

"Is one of those people your cutie patootie Englishman?" Willow asked slyly. Buffy blushed as she saw Methos enter the living room out of the corner of her eye, then go back into the kitchen.

"He's Welsh," Buffy corrected him, ignoring Willow's implication. "And he's not a Watcher. Not anymore anyway."

"But you guys are staying there, right?"

Buffy sighed.

"Adam is a friend," she told Willow. "And he was nice enough to let us stay here."

"That's it?" The witch asked, sounding slightly disappointed.

"Yea, that's it." She told her firmly, ignoring the single current of uncertainty that ran through her. She wanted to tell her friend that she had come here to do a job, and to make sure she lived up to the responsibilities that these new slayers now represented. She wasn't here for a boyfriend, especially not after having lost Spike and alienated Angel. There was just too much happening in her life. She wanted to tell Willow all of this, but couldn't seem to verbally form the words. She could tell on the other end that Willow didn't exactly believe her either.

"If you say so," she sing-songed. "How's Xander?"

"The same," she replied as Xander approached from the kitchen. "You want to talk to him?"

Willow did, and Buffy turned to hand the phone to him, entering the kitchen and finding Dawn there, going through her bags of clothes with considerable excitement.

"Look what I got Buffy!" She exclaimed excitedly. "They're the latest fashions and they were all on sale! This place is amazing!"

Buffy raised an eyebrow at the items Dawn had managed to buy 'on sale'. Some of them were really funky, and Buffy had a feeling that it might be her that began stealing from Dawn's wardrobe rather than the other way around. She was about to reply when part of Xander's conversation with Willow caught her attention.

"I told you back at Angel's, I don't want to talk."

Methos placed an arm on Buffy's shoulder and looked at her with deep concern. Xander's tone was one of considerable anger. He was almost seething with it. She had been the focus of such anger before, but Willow never had. He had never spoken to Willow like that. Well, other than the whole hyena incident. What sent shivers up Buffy's spine now however, is that there were no hyenas in site and Xander was almost yelling at her.

"All I want," he was saying, "is for everyone around me to stop asking me if I'm OK and to just leave me alone."

Dawn moved closer to Buffy and she took her hand, not sure what to do. He sounded like he was coming unglued and the more they tried to be there for him, the more he pushed them all away. There was another pause and then his voice, hissing angrily.

"Yea, that means you too Will. Just…let me be."

The phone slammed down loudly and without even looking towards the kitchen where the others were, he stormed out the door, not even bothering to grab a coat or put on his shoes.

"It's Anya," Dawn whispered sadly. "He's missing her."

"I know Dawnie," Buffy said with a heavy sigh. "I wish I knew what to do. Should I go after him?"

"I don't think that would be wise Buffy." Methos cautioned softly. "He seems rather volatile."

"He's not," she told him worriedly. "I mean, that's not Xander. He's always been so…I've never seen him like this."

"He'll be back soon," Dawn said with a confidence she didn't feel.

"Maybe it's best that we clear out of here before he gets back." Methos suggested. "Give him some space."

"Where are we going?" Dawn wondered.

"To meet some more friends of mine," Buffy told her, not wanting to leave for Joe's without Xander, but feeling she had no other option. She reached for a pad of paper and a pen. "That's a good idea Adam. I'm going to write him a note though, just in case he wants to…just in case."

"Good idea." Methos agreed. "Let me know when you're ready. Joe and the others are expecting us."


	9. Le Blues Bar

The bar was very charmingly named 'Le Blues Bar' and was displayed out front in bright neon blue letters. Buffy suspected it was because Joe himself was a blunt man. A fancy name didn't suit him, not even for the heart of Paris.

The interior of it was very much the same as the one in Seacover. Joe had obviously not been too concerned about the decoration of the place. Still, despite its rather Spartan look, Buffy immediately felt at home.

Dawn walked beside Buffy, taking in the place and grinning broadly.

"In Paris only a day and already we're hitting the bars."

"Only cause I know the owner," Buffy told her wryly.

"I was wondering when the Old Man would get around to bringing you here." Joe Dawson's voice caused Buffy to turn as she watched the Watcher exit the back room of the bar slowly, but deliberately.

She smiled widely and approached him, embracing him tightly but not enough to knock him over.

"It's good to see you again!" She exclaimed as she hugged him. When she pulled back, she was delighted to feel the immortal buzz wash over her. It meant that Duncan and Richie were close by.

Seconds later Methos turned, just as Duncan MacLeod and Richie Ryan entered the bar.

Richie called out her name and immediately hugged her tightly as did Duncan, although not as eagerly.

Backing up, she allowed the three men to see Dawn who had watched the reunion politely waiting for her introduction.

"This is my sister Dawn," she told them. "Dawn, this is Joe Dawson, Duncan MacLeod and Richie Ryan."

"Pleased to meet you," Duncan said warmly as he extended a hand. Flustered, Dawn shook it, then Richie's.

"Now that that's out of the way, where's the beer Joe?" Methos was already at the bar, looking for the tap as he grabbed a glass.

"Oh no you don't!" Joe called out as he made his way over to where Methos sat. "You're not putting this on any 'tab' tonight. You're damn well paying me this time!"

"Testy, testy Joe!" Methos exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. "Are you getting enough fiber in your diet?"

"Ignore them," Richie told Dawn as she watched the bickering going back and forth. "They're always like this."

"Actually, usually they're worse." Duncan put in with mild amusement. "This is Adam's best behaviour."

"C'mon, let's sit down." Buffy suggested as she found a table near the bar. Within moments, Methos had managed to wrangle a beer for himself out of Joe and a rum and coke for Buffy. He brought Dawn a soda.

"So tell me," Joe said as he sat down at the table. Duncan and Richie soon followed suit. The bar was empty having been closed by Joe that night for the reunion. Normally Tuesday nights were fairly busy, but Joe didn't want to have to serve customers and divide his attention. As well as having missed the young slayer, Methos had mentioned that she had done something that might require the help of the Immortal branch of the Watcher's Council. If any part of this was business related, Joe had to be alert. "What exactly happened to your town? Adam showed us the news story where it…sunk?"

"Yea, well that was only partly my fault." Buffy pointed out with a heavy sigh. "There was an amulet involved that…well, I gave it to a friend and I didn't know what it would do…"

She broke off as the memory of Spike saying good bye engulfed her. Shaking her head clear of the confusing feelings, she proceeded with the story explaining once again what she had done in order to defeat the first, including the consequences of a large band of slayers where once upon a time there had been only one.

Joe, to his credit looked suitably shocked. He had known of the untimely demise of the Slayer branch of the Council, but had assumed that one of the Immortal branch Watchers would be trained to take over the duties of a slayer while they slowly rebuilt. Now, with so many slayers in existence it looked as if that would not be sufficient. One girl…one girl in all the world. To think that the small blonde in front of him was responsible for such change in the balance of good and evil…it was mind boggling. Duncan said as much.

"What you did sounds pretty…unprecedented."

"That's one word for it," she said ruefully. "Look, Joe I don't want to come off like the only reason I came here was to ask for your help, but…"

"Say it," Joe told her. "After that story…I'd be insulted if you didn't ask."

"I want to reform the slayer branch of the Council, but I want to do it my way." She looked to Methos and Joe, as they were the key figures in this. Methos, with his knowledge of the past history of both the slayer and Immortal branches, and Joe because he happened to be not only an Immortal's Watcher, but also had knowledge of the former slayer branch of the Council. Both would be necessary if she were to succeed. "No more subjecting helpless girls to the mercy of an archaic belief structure. I gave them this power, but I want them to be able to keep it for themselves. If you were to help me, I would need you to contact your superiors and give them my terms. My Watcher Giles is in England at the moment with a very powerful friend of mine working on restoring the old building. The girls would live and train there until they wished to leave."

"Sounds good, but what do you need from me?" Joe looked perplexed.

"Man power," she replied. "I have a ton of slayers desperately in need of Watchers. Once that building is back up, I'm gonna need volunteers from this branch to train the girls. I figured you'd be the best person to turn to since you had knowledge of the slayer branch anyway. I'm not asking you to train any of them, but to find people who you feel can do so without pulling any power trips. I want this Council to be different Joe, and you're the only person I could trust to make it that way."

"That's a lot of confidence Buffy," Joe told her with genuine warmth in his voice. "Thank you."

"So you'll help me?" She asked with great relief. He reached out and clasped her hand tightly.

"It would be an honour." Joe said firmly.

"I'll help in any way I can as well," Methos added, eliciting a raised eyebrow of surprise from both Duncan and Joe. Methos offering his help in any situation that might be potentially dangerous was a rare thing indeed.

"Thanks," she said gratefully. "I'll give you Giles' number. He'll be waiting for your call."

"In the meantime, why don't we concentrate on enjoying ourselves for the night?" Duncan suggested. "It's been a while since we've seen you."

"Sounds great," Buffy told him. She had never been the closest to Duncan, but she had still missed him and it was nice to not have to worry about anything beyond that night. Everything would work itself out, another night.

* * *

An hour or so later, Buffy and Joe were involved in a lively game of darts on the one end of the bar, Richie and Dawn were engaged in conversation at one of the tables, and Duncan and Methos shared a beer together at the other end of the bar.

Both of them watched the slayer and the Watcher play, but neither of them were keeping score.

"She looks good," Duncan finally said to Methos changing the topic to include the object of their mutual observation. "A bit thinner than before, but good...different."

"Hardened," Methos said with a sip of his beer. "A warrior's lifestyle will do that. She's a damn site harder to take down now too, I'd wager."

"Doesn't look like she would hesitate much on that score anymore." He observed quietly. Methos smiled sadly as he realized what Duncan was implying. He too had noticed how the slayer had grown up in more ways than one.

"No," he said softly. "She wouldn't."

"She'll bring trouble." Duncan looked to Methos quizzically, "won't she?"

"Yes." Methos agreed with a small nod. He didn't take his eyes off of her. "She's trying to stay out of it for her sister, but I know her too well."

"Her sister…" Duncan let his gaze drift over to where Dawn sat, talking to Richie. "She's just a child."

"Same age that Buffy was when I first met her," Methos pointed out wryly. Duncan nodded.

"She seems younger though." He trailed a finger around the rim of his whiskey glass. "More innocent. I don't remember Buffy's smile ever being that lighthearted."

"Dawn's been through a fair bit too you know." Methos pointed out, though part of him knew that Duncan was right. She had endured a lot, but Buffy had been able to shelter her from a lot of it as well. She had died protecting the young girl, and that wasn't something you recovered from very easily. Methos was glad that the young Dawn Summers still possessed some of that innocence. It meant that the slayer's sacrifice had not been in vain. "Buffy could only protect her from so much."

"You still have feelings for her, don't you?" Duncan's question took Methos aback momentarily, but he managed to compose himself and offered a raised eyebrow.

"I don't know what you're talking about Highlander." His attempt at innocence did not work on Duncan.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about Old Man," Duncan shot back. "You were never very good at hiding your care for the girl. I think you might have loved her once."

"What makes you think that?" Methos asked, not denying it, but refusing to confirm it too easily for the Highlander.

"Because you don't put your ass on the line for just anybody." Duncan point out with some asperity.

"Perhaps," Methos agreed. "Why does it matter what I feel?"

"Just trying to get a lay of the land," Duncan said with a slight shrug. "After all, if you're not interested I was considering asking her out…"

"What?" Methos' voice was a little sharper than he had intended it to be causing Duncan to chuckle. Methos blushed slightly, realizing the trap he had just walked into. _Caught._

"Just wanted to see your reaction Old Man," Duncan said smoothly. "Deny it all you want…I know the truth."

"Yea, yea, you're a bloody genius," Methos muttered sourly. "It doesn't make any difference Mac. When she looks at me, all she sees is a friend, not a man."

"I wouldn't assume too much." Duncan cautioned the older Immortal. "Give her time. You never know."

Methos waved Duncan's words away as if they were an annoying bug and took another drink of his beer. The dart game continued, but both men were too lost in their thoughts to pay it much notice.


	10. Coward's Fight

Xander Harris was beginning to seriously question his sanity. Here he was in Paris, a city that he had only ever dreamed of seeing someday and all he could think of was Sunnydale, California. It was ridiculous. Only a crazy man would want to leave this place and go back to a town that was largely rubble and yet Xander felt as if he was about to jump out of his skin, he was so anxious.

The guilt was overwhelming. Every second of every day he thought of home. He thought of the way the Sunnydale sign had looked as it fell into the giant chasm the amulet had created. He thought of all that had been lost as the Hellmouth had been destroyed.

He thought of those who had been buried underneath it all, without someone to help them, or even a proper burial.

Anya had been one of those people.

He blinked his one good eye fiercely as the tears sprang to it, unbidden at the thought of her. Walking along the Seine, all he could think about was how much she would have loved to have been here. She had been to Paris before, so it wouldn't be anything new to her per se, but it would be to him and she would have loved to have shown him all her old haunts or told him all her old stories from her demon days. He had once been uncomfortable with her stories of the torture of wayward men, but right now he would give anything to hear about just one evisceration if it meant having her by his side.

He had messed everything up so completely that he hated the very sight of himself. There wasn't one single thing that didn't feel like his fault. He had so many regrets, it felt as if the despair would swallow him whole.

They started with leaving her at the alter. It had been a supremely stupid decision and one he had desperately tried to rectify, but to no avail. He had loved her, and he had wanted to marry her, but his own stupid insecurities and fears had threatened to choke him and he had caved into them, rather than fighting them like a real man would have. It was cowardly and she had known it. Why else would she have turned to Spike, of all people for comfort? Clearly she had wanted to hurt him and it had worked. He had let it work. Rather than behaving maturely, once again he had acted the child and turned the cold shoulder towards her.

He hated that he hadn't had the balls to face the situation, to move beyond it. It had taken a year before they began to develop something once again and begin to rebuild the trust that he had caused to be lost. He had really felt as if he were getting somewhere.

And now she was dead.

That wasn't his fault, but part of him felt as if it was. He kept going over the battle in his mind, thinking of all the things he didn't do, all the things he should have done.

He never should have let her fight with only Andrew as backup. He should have been there with her, should have protected her. Buffy would call the attitude male chauvinism, but it wasn't. He loved her and you are supposed to protect the ones you love, it was as simple as that.

But he had left her to fight alongside Andrew-someone incapable of fighting off a head cold and she had been cut down in battle because of it. He should have been there.

These were all regrets that combined together kept him from sleeping at night, but none of them were as prominent as the regret that he hadn't been able to find her, to say good bye himself.

Andrew had told her she died instantly, that there wasn't any room for doubt or error, but Xander couldn't completely accept that. It felt wrong, even if Andrew had been telling the truth to just leave her there without visually confirming it himself.

He had been too cowardly to love her properly, and he had been too cowardly to bury her the way she deserved. He had fled saving himself, but leaving her to die alone, unburied amidst the death and carnage.

Fresh rage filled him as he thought of Anya's body falling into the Hellmouth along with everything and everyone else. It felt so wrong, so anonymous. Buffy's mom, Tara, Ms. Calender, they had all been buried, had funerals, proper grieving rituals. It wasn't fair that Anya shouldn't have that too. She deserved it just as much.

But he had failed her. He hadn't looked long enough, hadn't tried hard enough. He was almost certain that if he had just kept looking, if he had just stayed a second or two longer he could have found her, could have gotten her out. Maybe he couldn't have saved her, but he could have at least buried her. He could have made sure of it.

She had no family. And now, she had no legacy. She had disappeared along with the town into that hole to be forgotten without even the simple courtesy of a grave to mark her passing. It wasn't how heroes were supposed to die. And cowards weren't supposed to live.

And yet here he stood in Paris, miles away from his failures and seeing them clear as day, even with only one eye.

His life had become one huge host of if's and might-have-been's, with no resolution to them in sight.

Everyone wanted to help, but nobody could ever truly understand. They had lost people yes, and they could even empathize to a point, but all of them were happy to escape the Hellmouth, to leave that place that had held such horror for so long. They didn't understand that it felt to him like he had left half of himself there lying forgotten under the rubble. They couldn't know how badly he ached to go back for her.

And he couldn't tell them. He was never good at talking about his feelings. Jokes and casual avoidance had served to hide his pain in the past, but it was getting harder and harder to pretend that everything was OK.

He hadn't meant to snap at Willow earlier, or to leave and cause the others worry, but he couldn't bear to be under their sympathetic scrutiny one moment longer. The only thing worse than their worry was their pity and he refused to be subject to either.

After a while he had gone back to apologize, but they had already left and although he had intended to go to the address on the note they'd left him, he'd been dragging his feet the entire way, not relishing the prospect.

He began to see the bar in the distance, and sighed, knowing that it was only a matter of time before he had to put on his happy face and pretend he was OK.

It was as he was thinking this, that he heard a scream coming from behind him. Turning, he ran towards it and right into a darkened alley way, where a young boy was about to be bit by a vampire. He sighed.

"Destroy a Hellmouth, go halfway around the world and I still run into vampires in dark alley ways." He muttered to himself.

He was going to help the boy-that much was non-negotiable. However, as he stepped into the alley and drew attention to himself, he realized that for once he was about to go up against a foe bigger, stronger and faster than him and he had absolutely no fear whatsoever of his own death resulting from it.

He wasn't welcoming the idea either; he wasn't suicidal or anything. Still, as he called out to the vamp and stared him down, the fear and thundering heart beat that usually accompanied him when he fought was gone, replaced with a strange new deadly calm underscored by a humming rage that even he didn't understand. He didn't want to die, but he didn't particularly care if he did. That part was secondary, a possible side effect to the absolute necessity of the fight in front of him.

He had to do this. He wanted to do this.

"Oh good, a main course to go with this appetizer," the vampire said with a chuckle.

"You're going to let him go." His voice was low, and steady.

"Are you going to stop me long john silver?" The vampire laughed at the prospect. Xander didn't flinch.

"Try me and find out."

The vampire growled, and lunged, but Xander's eye didn't falter. It no longer mattered that he was missing one. It no longer mattered that he was merely human and not equipped with slayer powers. All that mattered was the vampire in front of him and what he represented.

He was everything Xander hated right now. Vampires were creatures that preyed on the weak.

Cowards.

Just like him. And if he couldn't take his hatred out on himself, vampires were the next best thing.

With a cry of fury he didn't even know he was capable of, he launched himself at the creature, attacking with all his pent up hatred, anger, and guilt. The vampire was surprised to meet such a resistance from a mere human, so that helped to give him the advantage he needed in the first few exchanges of the fight. The boy had taken off as soon as the second punch was thrown, but neither Xander, nor the vamp noticed.

The vampire was fast, but emotion made Xander faster. He ducked and threw punches with a deftness even he didn't know he possessed.

He grunted as the vampire managed to slam him into the wall of the alley, but it gave him just enough time to reach into his pocket for the stake that he always kept hidden there, just in case. It was a habit knowing the slayer tended to force upon you and Xander was grateful for it.

He whirled around, avoiding a swing from the vamp and thrust the stake upwards into his chest cavity just in time. The vampire turned to dust, and Xander stood there, his heart pounding with pent up adrenaline and anger.

He was sorry it was over so quickly.

Touching his head gingerly, he felt a bump beginning to form, but shrugged the pain away. The others were waiting for him at the bar. Maybe he'd do this again another night.

For those few brief moments, Xander Harris had felt alive once more.


	11. Basics of Immortality

After Xander's outburst earlier, Dawn had been a bit more subdued. It had been easy enough to pretend that Sunnydale hadn't fallen and that some of their friends hadn't died. She just turned that part of her brain off, and pretended that none of it ever happened. But she couldn't do that forever, and Xander had reminded her of that when he had stormed out of Adam's house.

Anya had died, and Dawn would miss her. She would miss Spike even more, as he had always treated her as an equal, not as a child to be coddled or talked down to. She hadn't wanted to miss either of them. She wanted to go on pretending that nothing was wrong, that somehow she was in Paris because of some fluke and concentrate on clothes and the Paris scenery, but life didn't work that way.

She had been reminded of the loss of her friends today and it was difficult to allow herself to relax, even while talking to an immortal as interesting and engaging as Richie Ryan.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy his company. He was tall, and nicely built, though not too big like MacLeod, or all skinny like Adam. He looked to be about nineteen, no more than twenty and yet Dawn wondered what his actual age was. Buffy had mentioned that Duncan was about 400 years or so, but she hadn't told her how old either Richie or Adam were, and Dawn wasn't sure if it was bad taste to ask or not.

His hair was a sandy blonde colour and cropped closely to his head. His smile was warm and welcoming and his eyes were the nicest blue that Dawn had ever seen.

His good looks were only the beginning though as Dawn soon found out that Richie Ryan possessed a wonderful sense of humour. They had been talking for over half an hour now and some of his stories actually managed to break through her funk and cause her to laugh. At the moment, he was regaling her with a very amusing story about MacLeod that Dawn suspected he would kill Richie for if he ever found out it had been repeated.

"So the police caught him like that naked?" Her eyes were wide with surprise as she snuck a peak at the dignified Highlander who sat next to Adam, deep in conversation.

"Oh, not completely naked," Richie admitted, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I mean, he was wearing the garland from the mall Christmas tree."

Dawn's jaw dropped open and her mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise. Richie grinned.

Richie had never met anybody like the slayer's sister. Dawn Summers, he decided was something else entirely. She possessed a maturity far beyond her years and yet there was an energetic and youthful exuberance that even the darkest of experiences hadn't managed to take away from her. He knew that her home had been destroyed and from the emails Buffy had sent Methos, he knew some of the events of her life up until this point. He knew that her mother had died a couple of years ago for example. All of these things would have destroyed most people, or at least hindered their ability to smile. Even Buffy, when he had first met her had been beaten down by the things she had gone through, so much so that it had taken and good long while before she could move on.

He knew that Dawn hadn't by any stretch forgotten what had happened, but she didn't appear to be completely destroyed by it either. She was dealing with it, and Richie was fascinated right from the beginning by her obvious strength.

_She's the sister of the slayer_, he reminded himself. That alone guaranteed strength, but with Dawn he sensed it was strength of a different kind. Where Buffy was hard, determined and focused, Dawn seemed sprightly, energetic and gentle. She appeared to be more thoughtful than her quick-to-action slayer sister and more approachable to others who didn't know her.

She was pretty too. That was something that was never lost on Richie Ryan. She was tall, with clear brown eyes, silky dark hair and a graceful frame that reminded Richie of a dancer. She was the kind of girl that was pretty enough to make guys notice, but awkward still in a way that took off the pressure one might feel upon talking to her. In another few years she would be completely comfortable in her skin and her beauty and then she would make men all kinds of nervous. Richie was glad however that at the moment she seemed enthusiastic about talking to him. He felt a new warmth every time she smiled at him and decided he did not want that to end any time soon.

"Mac was pretty embarrassed," Riche said as he concluded his story. "Especially after Amanda developed the pictures and put them in her Christmas cards to everybody."

"Oh no!" Dawn said with a sympathetic giggle. She didn't really know Duncan MacLeod, but from the way Adam and her sister had described him, she got the impression that his sense of humour was a little more selective than his friend's and he wouldn't always appreciate a good practical joke. He seemed like a nice guy though, and Dawn felt a small bit of guilt for finding the story so funny especially when she barely knew the poor man.

"He'd kill me if he knew I told you all this." Richie told her, looking over at him then back again. "Well, he wouldn't actually kill me….I don't think….but still…"

"My lips are sealed," Dawn promised solemnly. "I thought you couldn't be killed anyway…."

"We're immortal, but we can still be killed." Richie told her. "If we get beheaded then we're done for. Anything else, and we just wake up and keep going."

"Like the energizer bunny!" Dawn exclaimed with a laugh. Then, as the thought of bunnies reminded her of Anya, she sobered slightly and looked away as the sadness washed over her. She wasn't supposed to be sad right now. Later.

"A little bit," Richie agreed, noticing the slight change on the girl's face when she mentioned the bunnies. "But dying is not exactly fun, even if we do come back. It hurts like hell for one thing."

"How do you become immortal?" Dawn wondered. "I mean, Buffy told me a little bit about it, but not everything. I mean, do you just get to a certain age and stop growing?"

"No," Richie said with a heavy sigh. "All immortals have the capacity to live out a mortal life span. The only way you get-'activated' I guess is the word for it-is if you die violently and get back up again. However old you are when that happens is how old you stay. I was nineteen."

"So…if you hadn't been killed…" she trailed off, leaving the implications of her words unvoiced. Richie nodded sadly. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he assured her. "I mean, it's not something I planned on, but I live with it. A friend of ours died the same night that I was killed. We were both shot. That was pretty tough."

"She wasn't immortal?"

Richie shook his head.

"No, she wasn't." He looked over at Duncan briefly, then back at Dawn. "She and Mac had been together for ages, I expect he would have told her if she was pre-immie. Not sure what he'd have done if she had gotten back up though. Tessa…she wasn't a killer. She was far too gentle that way."

"I'm really sorry." Dawn said sincerely. She could tell that Richie had cared for her. It was a tragic story, but it gave Dawn some insight as to why Adam thought that Duncan might be able to talk to Xander about Anya. "How…how do you know if someone is pre-immortal?"

"You sense it." Richie told her. "It's like how immortals sense each other when they get into close range, only not as strong. Not many people are pre-immie and even if they are, that doesn't mean they will become immortals. Most of them just grow old and die peacefully. Believe me, that's the better way to go."

"Mac didn't tell you that you were then?" Dawn guessed. Richie shook his head.

"I think he wanted to give me the chance at a normal life." He chuckled slightly. "That's Mac for you…always being all noble and self sacrificing for others, but not ever really knowing what they want, or need. He tried to protect me for so long, thinking I couldn't take care of myself…"

"I know how that feels," Dawn said with a wry smile. "Buffy has always been there protecting me, keeping me alive, but not always letting me live…you know? I mean, I'm grateful to her and everything, but…"

"You want out from under her shadow." Richie surmised. He nodded in perfect understanding. "I get that. I don't blame Mac for not telling me. Immortality is not something I would have chosen. Well, certainly not being eternally nineteen anyway."

"What about if someone you knew was pre immortal?" Dawn asked him. "Would you tell them?"

"I don't think immortals are supposed to." Richie replied after giving it some thought. "I've never met anybody who was pre-immortal, so I've never asked Mac if it's an official rule, but it just seems…well, it doesn't seem right. The game is something that nobody should have to participate in. Giving them the choice might feel like the right thing to do, but I think it's better to just let fate do its thing."

"Fate," Dawn mused. "Like a higher power? Believe me when I tell you I've had my fill of those. First evil, first good….they only ever cause trouble if you ask me."

"Must have been one hell of a ride," Richie guessed noticing the visible anger on her face as she spoke of what happened. "I mean, we saw the news story."

"It was crazy." Dawn agreed. "Two good friends died. And all those slayers….Xander-he's another friend of ours isn't here right now cause he's just too upset at the moment. He lost someone he loved."

"You're worried about him." It was not a question and Dawn liked that he seemed to be able to read her so well after knowing her for such a short period of time. She shrugged.

"He's alone in Paris and he's sad." She met Richie's gaze and smiled softly. "Yea, I'm worried. He was always the strong silent guy, you know? But today he went all 'Hulk smash' and it was weird. Plus…he's missing an eye and I'm kinda worried that his depth perception might cause him to fall into the Seine or something."

The last part was a joke, but Richie did not laugh. Dawn was genuinely worried and he hated to think that more heartbreak was yet to come, now that the big battle was over. Summers women…was there anything they couldn't handle?

"I'm sure he'll be…" Richie trailed off in his assurance as Dawn's gaze traveled to the door and a young man about the same age as Buffy with an eye patch on, walked into the bar.

"Xander!" She exclaimed, rushing over to where he stood and hugging him tightly. Xander looked distinctly uncomfortable as she hugged him and then pulled back and whacked him soundly on the shoulder.

"Ow!" He exclaimed, surprised by the force of it. "What was that for?"

"For taking off and scaring everybody." Dawn replied. Buffy had moved up behind her and was staring at Xander with worry in her eyes. He looked away. When he looked back he had managed to smile apologetically.

"Sorry Dawnster," he told her. "I just needed…"

"It's OK," Buffy told him, not wanting to push him any further now that he was here and appeared to be relatively stable. "Um, guys this is Xander Harris. Xander this is Duncan MacLeod, Richie Ryan and Joe Dawson."

"Nice to meet you," he said with a lopsided grin. "Sorry I'm late."

The rest of the night progressed with Buffy, Dawn and Xander all trying to pretend that everything was OK, but failing spectacularly. The battle was over, but none of them were even close to out of the woods yet. And judging from the heartache that Xander seemed to be going through, Buffy wondered if they ever would be.


	12. Longings

The following few weeks were relatively uneventful. At least on the surface.

While Willow and the coven reconstructed the Watcher's Council in England and began moving the newly formed slayers into it, Buffy used that time to become better acquainted with the Immortal branch and to help interview potential Watchers to send there.

She also used the time to get to know Methos again. The friendship was still there, solid as ever, but a lot had happened in five years, to both of them and it was silly to just automatically assume that the people they had become would naturally click the same way the people they had been had done.

She was grateful to find that it was still possible to fall into a pattern of easy comfortability. There was no tension, no angst. Methos demanded nothing more than that she be happy and she was more than willing to give that concept a shot. He hadn't asked her for anything more than she could give and it was something that she could never properly thank him for.

It would have been too much. After not being able to love Spike the way he had needed her to…to have to tell Methos that she was incapable of the same would have been unbearable. He meant too much to her and she was glad he hadn't forced the issue. He seemed content the way things were…uninterested even, which led her to suspect that any feelings she had imagined him having before were either just part of his plan to find out if she were evil, or completely imagined on her part.

It was what she wanted, and yet something in her, deeply buried was disappointed. She couldn't deal with something like this, and yet at the same time couldn't deny the way she felt, whenever she touched him. They were innocent touches to be sure….a brush of the hand, a hug in the morning, leaning against his shoulders at Joe's and yet her entire body seemed to tingle whenever she did so. It was like it had a mind of its own, telling her that there was something there and to deny it was pointless. She hated it. She hated that her physical sensibilities and her mind seemed to be at war with on another.

He was an attractive man. One would have to be blind and a nun not to notice that, but it was more than just raw lust. Her body reacted, but so did her heart. When he smiled at her she would feel a flutter deep within her that had nothing to do with her body and everything to do with all the tenderness she harboured towards him. It was more than confusing. And yet he remained distant…strictly in friend territory. She was determined to keep him there as anything further would only complicate and frustrate her more. Better to keep her distance.

Dawn spent what remained of her summer hanging out with Richie, who she seemed to have found a like-mindedness and friendship in. Buffy was glad as it kept Dawn from wanting to be too involved in the Watcher's Council reconstruction and it meant she had found a friend.

Xander went out almost every night, but neither Buffy nor Dawn or Methos could get him to tell them where he went, or what he did. He seemed restless during the daylight hours, almost like a caged animal. Come nightfall he was only too happy to leave, usually showing up hours later at Joe's a little more relaxed, but not by much. Buffy worried, but he was unresponsive to any of their attempts at getting him to open up. Even Duncan seemed unable to coax him into talking.

Despite these things, life seemed to resume its course, the world not even realizing how close it had come to ending only a few weeks before.

The others had begun to go to different corners of the world, searching for slayers to return them to England and Buffy kept constant updates of there whereabouts and progress.

Buffy's nights were spent at Joe's, listening to blues and to Duncan, Richie and Methos tell stories of adventures past. It was almost like having the Bronze back. She missed the others terribly though and she told Methos as much one night as they sat in a back corner watching Joe perform. Duncan hadn't arrived yet, and Richie and Dawn were seated at a separate table. Nobody knew where Xander was.

Buffy sat, leaning into the crook of Methos' shoulder, and loving the way his sweaters always seemed to smell as if they had just come out of the dryer. He was a mixture of male and Bounce and it was incredibly comforting lean into.

Even though the music was good, and the company even better, Methos could sense her melancholy almost immediately. He had always been good with that.

"You're missing them." His voice was low, but it managed to cut through the music nonetheless. She nodded against him.

Methos stared down at the woman who seemed to snuggle up to him with relative ease and smiled, though she couldn't see it.

Duncan had been right. He was in love with her. He had been since they parted ways in the bus station five years before. It was stupid to deny it to himself, but it felt like the only proper thing to do. His feelings were the last thing she needed.

It wasn't the fact that she had lost Spike. Methos knew she didn't love him the way he had wanted her to, or even the way he loved her. Spike's death rather represented something she had been unable to give, and something she felt endlessly guilty for withholding. He knew she had changed, had been prepared for it.

But he hadn't been prepared for this. She had closed herself off almost completely. She wasn't unable to show emotion, or to feel it-far from it. She had more love for those around her than any slayer he had ever encountered. It was her love that had caused all those girls to realize their potential and save the world.

Yet for all the love she had for them, she never really knew any of them. Perhaps it was easier that way. Methos suspected that she had decided not to love anymore because with it carried too many regrets. He wanted desperately to tell her that the worst regret was a 'maybe', but didn't know how to broach the topic.

In truth, he was terrified of it. He didn't want to lose her and was willing to do almost anything to keep her close to him. If it meant playing 'supportive non romantic friend', then Methos was more than happy to.

Still, it was nights like this when she touched him so casually and with such trust that he became so tempted to take her in his arms and tell her everything and let the chips fall where they may. Luckily his restraint was stronger than his imagination and he never let on to the effect that she had on him.

She was staring off into the distance once more, obviously thinking of the friends she had left behind in England. He squeezed her hand gently and she looked up at him, blinking quizzically.

"Just seeing if you were still with me," he joked. She smiled apologetically.

"Didn't mean to zone out like that. I just…I miss Willow. I know she would love this place, and these people and it feels weird to just create a new world without her and Giles in it…especially since we went through so much in Sunnydale."

"I know how you feel Buffy." He assured her. "I of all people can truly say that. Immortals have to create new lives regularly, only usually when we do, it's because those we love are dead, not simply in another country. It hurts."

"I still think I should be training those girls myself." She continued, grateful for his simple understanding. "I created them, and it feels like I've gone on vacation and left them to someone else's teaching. They are my responsibility."

"You're one person." He said firmly. "And you can't be everywhere. You saved the world, believe me, this is not a vacation. This is a necessity."

"I just…" she sighed and sat up to look him straight in the eye. "Part of me is bored. I hate saying that, because it sounds so stupid. This is what I wanted, but…I don't know. I want to get into it again, you know? I feel like what if the apocalypse comes and I'm too busy living my 'normal life' to notice? What if I miss it?"

"I'm sure Giles and the others will give you a heads up if the world is ending." He chided gently.

"OK, point taken," she agreed. "Still…you think I'm stupid for being so restless don't you?"

"Never," he assured her. "You're the slayer. Slayers thrive on their own natures, whether they want to admit it or not. It's part of you."

"But not you," she observed carefully. Methos made sure not to let any sort of expression come over him. "You dislike upset and danger. You're genuinely happy staying out of the game completely, aren't you?"

"I don't want to die," he told her honestly. "Not getting into sword fights seems a good way to keep that from happening. I fight if I'm forced Buffy, but it's not the same. I'm comfortable this way."

"You weren't always," she pointed out. She still remembered Methos telling her of his past deeds and reminded herself that this mild mannered Welshman who sat in front of her and smelled like Bounce had also once been a ruthless killer.

"No, I wasn't." He nodded his acknowledgement without any anger. Normally he would be on the defensive when his days as a horsemen were brought up because it was generally done so by Duncan and generally in anger. Buffy wasn't angry though, she was curious. "But like any phase, I grew out of it. Killing can only hold that sort of fascination for so long. Sounds cruel, but it's true."

"Sometimes I thought I would never escape it," she told him with a heavy sigh. "And now here I am longing for it again."

"Once a warrior, always a warrior." He said simply.

She nodded, but was unable to comment further.

"Call Willow tomorrow," he suggested. "Maybe it will make you feel a bit better."

She nodded, and returned her attention to the music, silent for a few more moments before turning back to look at him.

"What do you long for Methos?"

"What?" He looked at her in confusion, unsure as to what she was asking.  
"I just told you what I long for. What about you? There's got to be something in this world that you want more than anything."

Methos looked away, refusing to tell her the truth of it. His mind urged him to just turn to her and say, _you. I long for you. _But he knew that would only get him hurt. He smiled sadly.

"I long for many things." And then he brightened. "But right now, I long for another beer. Do you want anything?"

Buffy chuckled at his change of topic and shook her head no. She watched as he stood up to get another drink and resolved to call Willow the next day, a small part of her hoping that she would have a mission for her.


	13. Duncan's Intervention

Xander sat outside Joe's bar, frustrated at the night's progress up to this point. He had gone out that night, as he did every night attempting to find and engage Paris' demonic nightlife in battle. It was the only thing that served to help ease his nightmares, the only thing that could stop the humming in his skin that told him he had to do something. He couldn't save Anya, but he could take out his rage in other ways and he did just that as often as he could.

It wasn't as easy as it had been in Sunnydale though. There had been a Hellmouth there, and thus the demon population had been fairly large. In Paris it was different. He had been out every night, and was lucky to average one or two vampires in a week. They weren't as difficult to kill either. He wasn't sure if it was because his anger made him stronger and almost completely fearless, or if the vampires in Paris were easier because they weren't as used to human resistance as the Sunnydale vamps. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

In either case, he hadn't managed to find any that night and was reluctant to enter Joe's until he did. He had gone on several 'patrols' around Joe's bar looking, but so far there was nothing.

He knew he should go inside and join the others, but was unable to bring himself to do so. The night felt unfinished and he didn't want to have to pretend to be enjoying himself for the sake of Buffy and the others. For the first time he got an inkling of how Buffy had felt after Willow brought her back from heaven, putting on a brave face so as not to disappoint or bother the others with his pain.

He looked up at the door, contemplating whether to go in or just go back to Adams' when he heard a sound behind him that caused him to jump up and lunge, fists at the ready at his perceived attacker.

He was shocked when the person on the other end stopped his attack by grabbing his wrists, and shoving him up against the wall of Joe's, effectively holding him in place. When his eyes finally focused, he was startled to discover that it was the Highlander Duncan MacLeod holding him firmly in place.

"Over reacting a little, don't you think?" He spat bitterly. Duncan let him go and stepped back.

"I could say the same for you." He didn't sound angry, but his body language implied that he was unapologetic about his actions. For some reason that angered Xander, even though he knew he was in the wrong.

It didn't make any sense. Duncan MacLeod had been nothing but friendly to him and yet he had taken an intense dislike to not only him, but to Adam Pierson, the Watcher and the kid Richie Ryan that Dawn seemed to like so much as well. They represented a world that Buffy and the others seemed to have no problems fitting into, whereas all Xander could think about was Sunnydale and the world he knew.

He couldn't adjust like they could, and he hadn't even bothered trying. In fact, he had done his best to avoid Duncan and the others. It looked as if tonight that would not be possible. He stared at the man defiantly.

"You attacked me," he pointed out. "I was just sitting here."

"And I was just walking to the bar." Duncan replied, still unfazed by Xander's hostile nature. "But I think you were waiting for a fight."

"You have no idea what I was waiting for!" Xander shot back, annoyed that his purpose was so painfully obvious to the other man.

"I know," Duncan said quietly. "You can hide it from the others, but I've seen that look before. I've had it. I know you."

"You don't know anything about me." Xander said, but this time his voice was a little less certain. Duncan shrugged.

"Let me guess. Someone you loved deeply died when the town fell," Duncan supposed confidently. "You think you should have been able to save her, but couldn't. You're blaming yourself now."

"A lot of people died that day," Xander replied, refusing to let him know he was right. "Pretty easy assumption to make. I suppose now you're gonna tell me how you know what it feels like and you've been there before? That I shouldn't be angry or blame myself?"

"I do know," Duncan told him with quiet gentleness. The simple declaration caused Xander's anger to reach a boiling point.

"Yea, sure everybody knows how it feels don't they?" He lashed out. "But you don't! So you lost your girlfriend…what did she die of old age? I'm sad for you man, but you have no idea what I'm feeling, so just back off."

"If you're referring to Tessa, she was shot by a mugger who was so strung out he had no idea what he was doing." Duncan said calmly, but pain flickered through his gaze as he spoke. "And I understand what it's like to be angry."

"Yea, sure whatever." Xander was tired of this exchange and decided that enduring his friend's concerned gazes was preferable to this 'after school special' attempt at help. He turned to go, but was stopped when Duncan placed a strong hand on his shoulder to restrain him. Furious, Xander unleashed his pent-up anger and whirled on the Scot, hitting him squarely in the face.

Duncan stumbled back a foot or so, but quickly recovered shooting out an arm and grabbing Xander so tightly by the throat that he almost choked. He slammed him up against the wall so hard Xander saw stars before his eyes. When he looked into the Highlander's eyes, they were full of a quiet, controlled anger that told Xander he had pushed the man's tolerance to the limit.

"You think I don't understand the rage? You think I don't know how you feel? I lived with a native woman once….Sioux. She was everything to me, and when her tribe was attacked and her people slaughtered I wasn't there. Do you hear me? I wasn't there! I got back to find her, and my adopted son scalped and left lying there. And it wasn't just them. An entire village killed and I might have been able to save them. The scalpers were white like myself, but after that I couldn't even bare to consider myself one of them. I hated them all, and I did my best to hunt and kill as many of them as possible. Everyone was guilty to me. It didn't matter who they were, or whether they had even been there. But it didn't help. It didn't bring Little Deer, or Kahani back. They were still as dead when I had finished as they were when I found them. Nothing will change that."

"You think that's my problem?" Xander laughed harshly. "Yea, I couldn't protect her, and yea I hate myself for it, but you still don't get it." He shoved Duncan's arm away, refusing to allow himself to be bullied. "You lost her, but you got to bury her. You didn't just leave her there. You didn't just abandon her."

"You think I've never left men behind?" Duncan sounded genuinely surprised. "I've been in more wars than you will ever see. You think I've never seen my brothers fall beside me and not been able to carry their bodies home to their loved ones?"

"Makes you quite the coward then, doesn't it?" Xander spat bitterly. He refused to allow Mac to tell him he wasn't at fault. If he let go of that, there would be nothing left to cling to. Xander wasn't ready to let go of the hate.

"No," Duncan told him sadly. "It makes me human. That's all you are as well."

"Just leave me be." Xander said softly.

"You're not going to be any help to your friends by killing yourself." Duncan cautioned him. "That's what you're trying to do, isn't it? I can see it in your eyes. You keep going out looking for a fight and sooner or later you'll find one and it might be something you can't handle. You really want to die that badly?"

"I don't wanna die," Xander told him, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I don't. I'm just not sure I wanna live. Not like this."

"Come inside," Duncan suggested, motioning towards the door. Xander shook his head and turned away. Duncan nodded, realizing he was not going to get any further and went inside the bar. Xander sat down after the door shut, laid his head in his hands and allowed the tears to come.

After he had done so, he decided to make one more patrol. He desperately wanted to kill something, anything if it would help quiet the demons that plagued him tonight. One more patrol and then he would go inside.


	14. Isabel De Luca

_July 30th, 11:00 PM, Rome: Italy_

The man in the chair struggled fiercely, but the ropes that bound him were far too tight. His captor had known what she was doing when she acquired them. He wasn't sure why she had taken him, but he had heard rumours recently through the immortal network that gave him some clue.

A girl…stronger than was natural for any living human had been on the warpath, kidnapping and torturing immortals for information. She never took their heads, always killing them and leaving them to awaken on some random street.

Still, James Randall had been tortured before within his three hundred and fifty year lifespan and he did not relish the prospect of having it happen again, even if it was true that the girl would not go for the kill.

She was entering the room now, and he was surprised to see that she was incredibly young. Twenty-one at the most and yet, there was a hardened determination in her eyes that told him she meant business. Whatever she was after, she would not stop until she got it.

"James Randall," she said with a slight nod of her head. She was holding his sword in her hand, twirling it and gazing at the blade in what looked to be a mixture of admiration and contempt.

"I am," he replied, not bothering to hide his struggles against the rope. "You'll forgive me for not offering to shake your hand, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment."

"Humour will not save you Mr. Randall." She said calmly. "Only the right answers will."

"Well before we begin my 'exam', will you do me the simple courtesy of telling me your name?"

"You're in no position to make demands," she answered simply. There was no trace of anger or hate on her face. In fact, she was extraordinarily calm and detached…methodical even which made him nervous. She was beautiful as well, which was also unnerving. It was odd, but he always expected the ugliness of the soul to extend to the body as well. Beautiful women never did strike him as killers. Those were always particularly difficult challenges for him.

"You're right." He answered her, realizing that co-operating was his best bet. She was either insane, or very determined for reasons unknown to him. Both were dangerous, especially from his point of view. "Can't really do much. You've got me dead to rights. But I'm hardly asking much, am I?"

"Isabel De Luca," she said flatly. "But that's all you get from me, understand? Now we do this my way."

She was speaking English, he suspected for his benefit. He was on vacation in Rome, his home and heritage being in London England. Her English was impeccable, so he knew that she had been taught likely in a private setting. He was very curious and wanted to ask more, but knew that would not go over well. She had given him all the information she had intended to.

He watched as she picked up his sword and sat down in front of him, puzzling it seemed as to where to begin.

"Do we really have to do this?" He asked finally. "I doubt that whatever you want to know is within the realm of extreme secrecy."

"We have to do this because I have not had any luck by being polite." She replied matter-of-factly. "Now, tell me what you know about the immortal Methos."

"Methos?" He couldn't have sounded more surprised if he had tried. He gave a small laugh and would have spread his hands and shrugged were it not for the ropes that bound him. "Methos is a myth my dear. A legend. He doesn't exist."

She sighed heavily and before he could react, lashed out with the butt of his sword and hit him square in the face, harder than he had ever been hit by a human being before. His head snapped back and he felt the crack that signaled the breaking of his jaw. Pain shot through him and he gave a small grunt of surprise.

"I was hoping you would be more co-operative than the others." She said calmly as she wiped the spot of blood of the hilt of his sword. He couldn't respond right away due to his jaw, but thanks to his immortality it had healed moment's later.

"Believe me, after that right hook, I can assure you that I am not being un co-operative." He replied wryly. "But I don't know what I could possibly tell you about a man that doesn't exist."

"Oh but he does," she hissed. "And I wish your kind would stop protecting him. Surely somebody has got to know where to find him."

"I don't know what you've been told about us child, but protecting one another is not something immortals tend to do." He said with an ironic smile. "I can assure you if I knew of his whereabouts, I would tell you. I have no desire for this little…game to continue."

"We'll see about that." She said quietly. "Now, let me ask you again and believe me when I say that I am only getting warmed up. Where is Methos?"

He groaned aloud as his failure to respond a second time to the question caused her to lash out once more resulting in a painful blow to the eye. He couldn't answer a question he didn't have the answer to, and he feared that that simple failing would make it a very, very long night.

Isabel didn't want to torture this man. She hadn't wanted to torture any of them. It was simple necessity that drove her this far.

She had tried questioning them politely, but all of the immortals she had approached had been unresponsive-some downright hostile. They had all claimed that Methos the world's oldest immortal didn't exist, that he was a myth, but she knew that to be false. He existed and he had killed the only two people that had ever meant a damn to her. For that he would pay and if she had to torture a hundred immortals to find him, she would.

She didn't enjoy it. Far from it. And there was a very real chance that this man, James Randall did not know where to find Methos. If that were true, then she felt genuinely regretful for having to hurt him this way. However, there was also a very real chance that he was a liar. So many of them were.

They dealt in death on a regular basis and even if he didn't know where to locate Methos, there was a good chance that this man had killed…maybe innocent people. There was no such thing as a bloodless immortal and she used that justification to do what she had to do in the name of her quest. She would avenge her parents for their deaths.

The torture of James Randall itself lasted a good twelve hours. Afterwards, she was forced to accept that he did not indeed know the location of Methos. No man would be that willing to keep the secret of another immortal's whereabouts for that long and through that much pain. She would have to let him go. She couldn't take his head though. For one thing, she was not a killer. Not yet. That event was reserved for Methos and no one else. For another, she could not take the quickening. She had strength beyond what was explainable, but she was still human. Humans could not handle the power of the quickening. Her parents had taught her that, among other things.

She accepted that when she took Methos' quickening she would likely die. It was an event she did not anticipate, but one she was not afraid of. She would be with her parents when she did so, and their souls would be at rest. That was the most important thing. Her life was secondary.

Looking down to the immortal in front of her, she put those thoughts out of her mind for the moment and concentrated on the matter at hand.

She would have to do what she did with the others.

Kneeling down in front of the man, she brushed a lock of sweat soaked hair away from his blood stained face. The wounds had healed already, but the blood remained as evidence of her power and her fury.

"I'm going to run your sword through your chest, and after you die I am going to let you go a few miles west of hear."

"Why tell me this?" He asked, his voice a rasp.

"Because I wish to deliver this warning. Do not attempt to find this place, or to get revenge on me for what has happened here. I am far stronger and far more skilled than you are. You have seen only a small taste of what I can do to you here. I will not hesitate to do more." She was bluffing, but had gotten so good at it that he believed her. He believed she would kill him if she had to. Good.

"What would you have me do?" He asked carefully.

"Leave here." She instructed. "Leave Rome and go back to England. I am assuming by your accent that that is where you are from. If I see you again in this city I will not hesitate to take your head, do you understand me?"

"What are you?" He was unable to keep himself from asking the question. She was far too intriguing and it over-rode his fear for the time being. It also resulted in a harsh blow to the face and a blaze of fury that washed over her normally cool face.

"Never ask me that, do you hear me?" Her voice was an angry hiss, but her body vibrated with emotion. "I am a human being, not a monster like you. Leave here and you won't have to find out what I could do to you if I chose."

"I'll go." He told her calmly. "But what of my sword?"

"It will be on your person when I deliver you out of here." She replied, allowing the anger to deflate. "I would not leave anybody defenseless to die. Not even an immortal."

And with that, she slid his sword into his chest with hardly any ceremony or expression and proceeded to untie him, preparing to dump his body in the same place that she had dumped all the others. Another immortal, another dead end. It didn't matter. She would find Methos. She had to.


	15. Mid August Nights

It was a beautiful mid-August night in Paris. No matter how many times she walked back to Adam's place after going to Joe's, Dawn could not help but notice the city's beauty. It was so different from Sunnydale in so many ways. It had its own heartbeat, it's own pulse and way of doing things. It took a while, but Dawn had started to get used to the more laid back Paris style of living. She had even begun to settle into a routine of sorts, using Buffy's gift from Adam to learn and speak French almost fluently.

She was also spending more and more time with Richie Ryan. He had been a constant companion to her ever since that first night meeting him in Joe's bar. They usually walked home together, which was what they were doing this particularl night, having decided to call it a night a bit early and get some sleep. She knew that he volunteered for these walks partly out of friendship and partly because Buffy was worried for her safety and wanted someone there should something happen. Dawn was grateful for his friendship as Xander and Buffy both seemed to be caught up in their own worlds, their own problems.

Dawn wasn't jealous of the lack of attention. There was a time she might have been, but she had long since come to realize that while Buffy loved her greatly, she also had a higher duty to attend to and that meant she couldn't always spend time with Dawn socially. She had been working hard at merging the two Watcher's Councils, declaring that keeping the knowledge of each other a secret was just not going to work in this new era.

Changing the slayer line was not enough. Buffy and Adam had taken to changing the Watcher's Council as well. Dawn was incredibly proud of her. She had seen the way the Council had treated Buffy when she was the only active slayer and knew that this was the right thing to do. Watchers were only useful if they served the best interests of their slayer and this way they did just that.

Dawn wondered if Buffy was this intent on her new duties as liaison because she was bored by the lack of demon activity in Paris. Until she had called Willow a month ago and put a renewed effort into her activities she had seemed at a loss. Now, she was constantly busy and it seemed that it was satisfying her, at least somewhat.

Adam was never far from her side. Dawn had noticed not only his attention and his willingness to help, but the way he looked at her sister when she wasn't looking. Buffy didn't seem to realize his feelings for her. Either that or she was politely ignoring him. Either way, Dawn's heart went out to the enigmatic immortal as he seemed to genuinely care for her sister. Dawn liked him, and thought he might be good for Buffy if only she could open her eyes to see that.

Xander remained aloof and unresponsive to both of them and it hurt Dawn to see him pull so tightly into himself. There was a time when she had felt a distinct closeness to Xander….a kinship formed through their relative ordinariness in a sea of extraordinary people. He had called her that once. After she had thought she might be a slayer, only to find she was just Dawn Summers once more. He had told her that she wasn't special, but rather extraordinary and she had loved him for it. Not the way a woman loves a man-she had gotten over her crush on him long ago-but as a sister loves an older brother, or more importantly, a friend. Xander had seen something in her that even she had been blind to and had showed it to her, right when she had needed it the most. He had paid attention, known what she was going through, when her own sister did not.

It hurt that she was unable to do the same for him. She wanted so badly to be there for him, to tell him that she understood how he felt. But she didn't. She had lost friends, but Xander had lost something more precious. He had lost his sense of safety, his home and his love. Dawn was not naïve enough to think she could possibly understand his feelings. But she wanted to. She wanted to help him the way he once helped her…to show him that she too could see when others couldn't.

Richie understood that about her. She had trusted him almost from the beginning. Although he was immortal, he didn't seem to have the look of cynicism and world experience that Adam and Duncan wore without even realizing it. His face was an open book, earnest and trustworthy. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was not afraid of showing that.

She had never felt so close to someone that she had known in such a short time, and the feeling made her slightly nervous. Was this what it was like to have serious feelings for someone for the first time?

All her other experiences with members of the opposite sex had been disastrous. The most notable of them, was the vampire football player she had gone out with on Halloween, and RJ, another football player whose enchanted letterman's jacket had caused her to nearly kill herself to prove her love.

In both cases, her feelings had been sharp, intense and insistent. They had made her feel that if she didn't have the object of her affection her world would end. It was silly, she knew that now. Real feelings, she was beginning to learn, were much different.

With Richie she didn't have that feeling of intense urgency. She didn't have to know his feelings right away, or feel nervous and foolish in his presence. She wanted him, that much she had already decided. This was different though. It was muted, comfortable and warm. She felt safe in his presence as she never had before. And she was comfortable and at the same time awash in tingles and nerves whenever he flashed that megawatt smile of his or laughed at one of her jokes.

It was the most unique thing she had ever experienced, and she had absolutely no desire to rush it. She was happy being his friend and thinking from time to time what it might be like to be more…to touch his hand in a way that was no longer casual…to have him wrap his arms around her and pull her close.

No matter what happened, she knew she would not lose Richie Ryan, even if his feelings for her did not mirror hers. He wasn't the type to pull away like that or jeopardize the friendship. She liked knowing that.

"You're a million light years away." Richie's voice cut through her thoughts of him and she turned to give him a smile of apology. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," she told him, choosing not to voice her feelings for him at this time. "And everything. This is such a beautiful city."

"It's nice," Richie agreed. "I miss the States sometimes though. It was home. I mean, I didn't always have it the greatest, but it felt natural. Here I feel out of place a lot. I mean, I don't speak French very well, and the guys I hang out with are hundreds of years older than me. Sometimes it feels like I'm out of my depth."

"I know how you feel." She told him honestly. "When all your friends are not only older, but have super powers, you feel a little out of it as well."

"Xander doesn't." Richie stated. Dawn sighed.

"No, but he hasn't exactly been Mr. Attentive lately," Dawn pointed out. "It's not his fault. He's hurting. I get that. I just wish I could talk to him."

"Even Mac couldn't get through." Richie said with a heavy sigh. "If Mac can't get someone to open up, it's pretty bad."

Dawn nodded, liking that he didn't try to hide his thoughts or sugar coat things for her benefit. It was as if he saw her as a mature person and not the slayer's kid sister. It was not often that happened.

"Hopefully when all this stuff with the Council dies down Buffy can do something to help him." Dawn said, but even as she spoke she knew that wasn't going to be the case. Only Xander could help Xander and he would do so when and if he was ready. Richie didn't contradict her though, he simply nodded and continued walking.

There was a few moments of comfortable silence before he turned to look at her once more with a quizzical look in his eyes.

"What's your favourite movie?"

The question caught her off guard.

"Err, nice segue?" She chuckled and she could swear she saw him redden, even in the moonlight.

"I just…I realize I don't know anything about you, beyond what happened in Sunnydale and who you are. I don't know what music you listen to, what TV shows you watch, what books you read, or what movies you like."

"And you…want to know this stuff about me?" She felt her heart speed up at the idea of Richie wanting to know so much about her thoughts and feelings. Until now, not even her closest friends had gained that kind of knowledge. There had always been far too many more important things to worry about than whether Dawn Summers liked romantic comedies or not.

"Yea, I do," Richie was saying. "I like you Dawn and I want to know everything there is to know about you. A person's favourite movie can tell a lot about their personality. Course if it's Silence of the Lambs I might have to withdraw my curiosity."

"The Princess Bride," she said with a grin. "No serial killers for me thanks. Just Cary Elwes and Andre the Giant."

"I used to love that one." He admitted with a slight grimace. "Until I became immortal. Now I avoid anything with sword fighting in it on principal. I get too much of that in real life to ever want to see it on the screen."

"I'm the same way about monster movies," Dawn admitted. "So what about you then? What's your favourite movie?"

"I love the Lethal Weapon movies," Richie told her with a broad smile. "Something about Mel Gibson and Danny Glover that is just so funny."

"And Mel's pretty cute," Dawn joked.

"Do you…" he trailed off now sounding slightly nervous. "Do you want to go to a movie with me maybe?"

"Yea, sure," she replied, wondering why he was suddenly shifting nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet. They had spent countless nights at Joe's just talking and hanging out…what did it matter if they changed the location of where they spent time together? "When do you want to go?"

"Do you understand what I'm asking you Dawn?" Richie said, ignoring the question. Dawn was suddenly as nervous as he was. Was he going to ask her what she thought he was?

"Umm, a movie?" She sounded stupid but she couldn't help herself. The intensity in the look he was giving her took away all attempts at coherence or rational thought.

"A date," he clarified. "I want to take you out on a date."

"Why?" The question came out before she had time to tell her mouth to be quiet. Richie however, to her surprise through his head back and laughed. She felt herself becoming slightly annoyed with his amusement. "I don't think it's that funny."

"It's not," he assured her, noticing her indignance. "I'm not laughing at you, I swear it's just…do you not know how amazing you are? How entertaining, and strong and pretty?"

"You think I'm all those things?" Her voice was small, almost getting lost to the warm Paris air. He smiled and touched her cheek gently.

"And more," he promised her. "What guy wouldn't ask you out?"

"Last time I counted?" She said wryly. "All of 'em. But if you're serious…I'm interested in going out with you. I'd…I'd love to."

"Great!" He smiled that huge smile of his that reminded her of a little boy. "Umm, I'll let you mention it to Buffy first and then we'll pick a day."

"Mention it to Buffy?" She echoed, "why?"

"Cause you are her sister." Richie said as if it was perfectly logical. "I met her first, and you're younger and she could kill me in a New York minute if she felt like it. Given all these things I think it's good if we let her know what's going on upfront. I'd like my head to be in tact when we go out."

"Buffy won't mind," Dawn said confidently. "Why would she? After all, you're her friend!"

Richie nodded and kept walking. It was clear that he wasn't as sure of things as Dawn was.


	16. Sisterly Ultimatums

"No," Buffy's tone was resolute and determined, though her eyes still showed the surprise she had obviously felt at Dawn's request to go out on a date with Richie Ryan. Dawn, for her part had been expecting the reaction and had planned her defense accordingly. She loved her sister, but knew that she was still very set on the idea that Dawn was still a child and would be so until she was old and grey. She had to convince her sister that she was old enough to make her own decisions and the only way she could be able to was by calm, rational discussion.

"Why not?" It was the best place to start. She made sure her voice was level and not angry. Buffy didn't seem angry yet either, although she did seem pretty firm on the idea.

"You're seriously asking me this?" She sighed as if the answer should be fairly obvious to Dawn. She had her theories as to why Buffy would be opposed to it, but waited for the answer in silence. "He's older than you Dawn. Way older."

"He's immortal, so that's pretty much a given." Dawn replied, acknowledging the point. "But from what he's told me, he only became an immortal a few years ago so he's still technically within his mortal timeline. And hello…older guys? Pretty much a been-there-done-that for you isn't it? With guys WAY older than Richie."

"This isn't about me," Buffy said as if that much should be obvious. Dawn fought the urge to roll her eyes at her sister's cluelessness. "Mortal timeline or no, it still puts him around the age of thirty and you still at seventeen. Not a good."

"You can't honestly be using the age card!" Dawn exclaimed, abandoning her resolve for calm. If this was going to be her sister's entire objection Dawn was prepared to fight it. "And yea, I can bring you into this, considering all your boyfriends, even the mortal ones have been way older than you. Why is it OK for you and not me?"

"It's not just his age Dawn…it's what that means. He may look about 19 but he isn't and that's because he's immortal." She smiled sadly at Dawn, which irked her slightly. "Immortals live dangerous and violent lives."

"Like we don't?" Dawn scoffed, unable to keep from interjecting. "That's been all I've known for a good long while. Why stop now?"

"Because we can!" Buffy exclaimed. "Because we're away from all of that. Dawnie! Everything I've done over the past few years….the gift to the slayers…all of that was so that you and I could live normal lives. I want so much for you to have what I never did. Richie is part of a world that you don't need to belong to. A world I don't want you to belong to."

"You know I can handle myself." Dawn said quietly. She resented the implication that she still needed protection. After all they had been through, surely her sister must realize by now how able she was both as a fighter and as a thinker. Richie certainly did.

"Maybe you can," Buffy conceded. "But I don't want you to have to. Richie is a great guy Dawn, but he's also a killer. That's what immortals do to survive. They don't have a choice. And if you date him you'll see that first hand and I don't want you going where I can't protect you."

"You mean where you can't follow." Dawn supplied flatly. "Buffy I get it. I know you want me safe. I do too. And Richie would never endanger me on purpose. He cares about me a lot. I know I haven't known him long, but I know that. And I know how I feel about him. You should be grateful I'm telling you this instead of just doing it like you did when you were with Angel."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy's voice was defensive and Dawn could tell she had picked at a sore spot. She hadn't meant to, but it looked as if she would have to go for whatever would help her win the argument.

"You snuck around with Angel because you knew Mom would never let you date him. She would have said the same things you are saying to me…well, she wouldn't have said he was a vamp, but she definitely would have had age issues…and without even knowing just how old he really was!" She paused and gathered her thoughts. "My point was, you loved him so you did it anyway. I'm not saying I love Richie, but I know I care about him. I could have lied to you and snuck around like you did, but I don't want that. I don't want us to have secrets Buffy. I want to talk to you about this. I want you to be OK with this. It's just one date. It's not a marriage proposal."

"Angel and I were different Dawn, we were…" she trailed off, obviously not wanting to go that route just now. "Anyway it doesn't matter. Angel and I ended badly and maybe I should have told Mom so she could have talked me out of it. If there had been anybody to warn me…really warn me about him, they would have been right. As it is, even Giles just let it take its course and look what happened. People died."

"Even if somebody had forbidden it outright would you have listened?" Dawn shot back. She knew just by the look on Buffy's face that she had her cornered. Slowly, regretfully, she shook her head.

"No, I would have done it anyway." She admitted. "Is that what you're telling me? That you'll go out with Richie no matter what?"

"Yea, I think I am." Dawn replied. She sighed heavily, disliking that she had to resort to this ultimatum. "I love you Buffy and I respect you, but I'm seventeen years old. I am old enough to date who I want to and to make my own mistakes…just like you did. You know what kind of person Richie is…you know that he's a good guy and that he won't hurt me on purpose. My eyes are open here."

"Yea, I guess they are." And this time she looked at her…really looked at Dawn and smiled sadly once more. "I just don't want you to go through half of what I did Dawnie. I want life to be…easier for you."

"It's never gonna be easy." Dawn replied voicing a truth she had learned unequivocally the day her mother had died. "But that's why we need people to stand by us. I don't have many people in my life like that and for once I feel I might. Easy might be too much to hope for, but Richie makes my life less hard…and that's a good thing."

"You're getting way too smart for your own good," Buffy grumbled. "I guess I can't really say much given my extreme hypocrite status. Still, I….be careful OK?"

"Careful is my middle name." Dawn said with a happy smile. She was glad she wouldn't have to carry through on her threat to date him anyway without Buffy's blessing. It was so much easier if her sister was on board.

"And you let him know," Buffy continued, "that if he ever puts you in any situation that even falls into the realm of life threatening, I will cut off some parts of his anatomy that he can't afford to spare."

"I'll pass the message along," Dawn said wryly. She met her sister's gaze and the two dissolved into quiet laughter. "In any case, I think there are plenty of immortals to go around. What about Adam? I mean, you two have been looking pretty cozy lately."

"Adam and I are friends." Buffy said firmly as if she was tired of the argument. The thing was, Dawn was almost certain that nobody had made the insinuation about her and Adam before, except for Willow. She smiled as she realized that this argument that was tiring her sister so much was probably raging in her own head. There was no way that she wasn't into him. It was in every movement and gesture and so obviously reciprocated.

"Yea, and I'm the Pope!" Dawn said with a laugh. "Seriously Buffy, when are you guys gonna wake up and smell the chemistry?"

"Right about when you start minding your own business," she retorted, although she didn't sound angry. "I can't be with Adam right now Dawnie…or anybody for that matter."

"Because of Spike?" The look of surprise on her sister's face was almost comical. Did she really think Dawn hadn't noticed the pain and grief that filtered across her face every time someone mentioned him? "It's OK to miss him Buffy, but there's probably a statute of limitations on isolation. I bet he'd want you to be happy."

"Spike was…." She trailed off, unable to voice her thoughts properly. "It was complicated. And I can't do complicated again. I'm just too…I don't want that."

"Whatever," Dawn said airily although it was clear that the topic was far from closed. "I can't tell you what to do, but from what I've seen it's the complicated ones that are the most worth it. Think about it."

And with that she left to find Richie and tell him the good news.


	17. Friendship's Near Miss

"Dawn is dating the idiot?" Methos shook his head and gave a quiet chuckle. "And here I thought, given her good genes she would have better taste."

"Yea, well I'm not exactly doing cartwheels about it," Buffy admitted with a frown. Then, upon seeing his expression amended, "not that I have anything against Richie…he's not an idiot you know."

"I know," Methos agreed reluctantly. "He's a kid that hasn't had enough experience to fit a thimble. That sometimes falls under the idiot category when it comes to me."  
"Yea, well look who's talking." She shot back.

The two of them were at Joe's again, but on this particular night none of the others had decided to come out. Joe wasn't performing, he was bartending and Duncan was out of town helping an old friend get out of some kind of scrape that Buffy had only half paid attention to. Xander was AWOL as usual, and Dawn had elected to stay at Adam's place that night and try on clothing options for her upcoming date with Richie. Buffy might have been amused by her sister's behaviour if it were anybody but an older immortal that she was going out with.

She had considered not going out herself, but Methos had talked her into it, saying that with Joe bartending he would be able to mooch free beer, but he did not want to do it solo. She had reluctantly agreed.

The truth was, being alone with Methos was getting considerably harder as the days wore on. Dawn had made some valid points the other day when she had brought up how 'cozy' the two of them looked together and as much as she hated to admit it to herself, her feelings for the enigmatic older immortal only seemed to grow stronger by the day. The logical argument she had made to Dawn about immortals being dangerous people to date or fall in love with seemed to nearly fly right out of her head every time Methos looked at her with those mysterious hazel eyes of his.

She was beginning to resent him for it, even though it was ridiculous to do so. It wasn't his fault that he practically radiated sensuality with his every movement. It wasn't his fault that his voice made her warm in places she had thought long cold. None of it was his fault…she wasn't even sure he was aware of it. The idea that he might have had feelings for her at some point was beginning to feel more and more remote and for some reason that hurt. It was confusing as hell and she had wanted nothing more than to put confusing behind her.

She was cookie dough. It was time for her to have fun…be fancy and free. So why couldn't she do it? Why couldn't she just tell him she wanted something light? No strings attached? But even as she asked herself that question, she knew the answer. What she felt for him was far deeper than something with no strings ever could be and once she stepped into that pool it was the deep end, or bust. She had had enough busting.

"Calling me ancient again." Methos was joking. She turned her attention back to the conversation. "Oh how you wound me slayer."

"Wound you? You just said Richie sometimes seems like an idiot to you because he doesn't have enough life experience to fill a thimble. I'm younger than him, so what does that say about me?" She shot him a falsely annoyed look, and he instantly sobered.

"You have enough life experience to fill ten lifetimes." He told her seriously. There was a touch of sadness in his voice. "Your age doesn't even factor in."

She felt something flutter within her at the caring in his voice, but pushed it away. They were talking about Dawn.

"Yea, well Dawn's does and she's only seventeen." She sighed. "I don't like it that she's into him. Friends, yea, but dating? That just puts her into a whole new category of bad."

"She's not helpless." Methos pointed out. He had gotten to know and like Dawn Summers quite a bit. Although she was younger, and not as mature as her older sister, she possessed a quiet intelligence and strength of will that he suspected came with all the Summers women. She had already begun to feel like a younger sister to himself as well, a dangerous thing as it put him even further into an emotional situation he knew would only result in hurt, and yet he couldn't seem to help himself. "And she's seen enough to know what she's getting into."

"Yea, I know." Buffy grumbled. "That's what she said, and she's right…it's just…"

"What?" Methos leaned in and touched her hand. He thought she might have flinched, and was saddened by that. She had been growing more and more distant lately and he knew that had nothing to do with the fact that there had been no demon activity or council related duties to attend to lately. It was him, he was sure of it. Something about him, about the their friendship, was making her uncomfortable and he hated that.

"I don't want her with an immortal." She finally said quietly. "It's not that I have anything against immortals…you know that, but…your lifestyle, the violence of it…"

"It's not something most of us ask for." Methos reminded her.

"I know," she replied, the frustration over not being able to express herself clearly was evident. "But it's so pointless! The slayer fights evil. It's my purpose, but it's not pointless. I do it to keep the world from ending. You guys chop off each other's heads for some far off 'prize' that may or may not exist. Some of you kill one another for sport, for power. I don't want her in that world."

"I never knew you felt that way." He looked away from her, unable to meet her gaze and Buffy instantly regretted her words. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed she had wounded him by voicing her concerns.

"It's not you Methos, I don't blame you…"

"No, of course not." He replied with a slight edge to his voice. "But the pointless violence of my world puts you at a distance from me. You don't want to go too deep."

"When did this become about me?" She asked, suddenly aware that the conversation as veering further and further away from Dawn like a runaway freight train. "I said I didn't want Dawn…"

"This isn't just about Dawn and we both know it." He cut her off abruptly. "For weeks you've been pulling away from me Buffy and I've been trying to figure out why. Now I guess I know. I thought it didn't matter to you…what I was. Looks like I was wrong."

"It doesn't matter," she insisted. "I don't know where this is coming from. Just because I don't want Dawn dating an immortal-something I can't do anything about by the way-doesn't mean our friendship has to change. I've told you before that what you did before doesn't matter. Who you are now does."

"You've told me that," he agreed with a slight nod, "but now I see differently. What if I want the friendship to change Buffy? What if it has to?"

Her whole body instantly went still as he spoke. Her heart was in her throat and she had trouble breathing. It felt like the world was closing in, too fast, too soon. Methos was talking about the two of them…the chemistry they had together and that he had apparently politely been ignoring. One moment more and it would be out in the open and she would be forced to acknowledge it. She didn't want to do that. Not yet. She wanted to go on pretending for just a little while longer.

"Methos, please…" she wasn't sure of what to say or how to say it. How could she tell him that despite everything inside her that told her this was what she wanted, that it was the last thing in the world that she needed?

He leaned in towards her and touched her cheek with a gentleness that caused her resolve to melt slightly. He smiled regretfully and shook his head.

"Sometimes things change," was all he managed to say. He sat back and gave a heavy sigh. "And sometimes they don't. Don't pay any attention to me…I think I've had too much to drink."

And with that, he took another swig of his beer and turned his attention to the band that Joe had hired to perform that night. Buffy watched as he seemed to shut himself off from her and desperately wanted to reach out and stop him…to pull him back to the closeness the had just had, but couldn't. She had just had a narrow escape with something she wasn't prepared to deal with and to go back there would just make it worse. Better to pretend nothing had happened.

Methos did not want to look back at her at all. He hated that he had made such a stupid mistake. He hated that he had nearly bared his soul to her, because he knew it would only end in rejection. He was smarter than this normally. What had possessed him to nearly do something so stupid? He was behaving like a stupid kid. Even Richie Ryan was smarter than this.

And yet despite this knowledge, he ached to turn back to her, and kiss her…to force her to look at what they obviously had together. It was there…he knew that to be a fact, but her resistance was incredibly strong. He couldn't blame her. He only knew a fraction of the heartache she had gone through, but that was more than enough to tell him that she would never carelessly risk her heart again.

It made him furious that on top of all she had gone through she would have to shield herself this way and yet he understood it. He had been there. There wasn't a human emotion in existence that he didn't understand on some level. It made it incredibly difficult to feel anger or resentment, even when he was more than entitled to it. Especially where she was concerned.

He shook his head, ordering himself to stop dwelling on things he couldn't change and to enjoy the rest of the evening. Their friendship was still in tact and that was the important thing. It was the only thing. Plastering a smile on his face he looked back at her.

"The band is good." Was all he could thing to say. She gave a noncommittal nod and the rest of the night was spent in small talk and uncomfortable silences for the two of them, desperately trying to avoid any talk or mention of what had just happened, or nearly happened as the case may be. They would have this out at some point, but tonight wasn't it.


	18. The Coming Dark

Author's Note: Special thanks to EVERYBODY that has reviewed the story so far! You guys have been invaluable. You keep me writing this, so I cannot stress enough how much your reviews mean to me!

* * *

_August 20th, 6:00PM, Rome: Italy_

Isabel De Luca stared at the image of her father before her with defiant eyes. She loved him dearly, both before and after his death but there were times that the people you loved, even parents, asked too much of you. This was one of those times.

"I'm telling you, I don't want it."

"And I am reluctant to offer it to you." Her father told her, eyes still as gentle as they had ever been. "I know how much you wish to be like everyone else, but you aren't. You are my daughter. Your mother and I were different and so are you."

"I know," she said softly, not wanting to appear ungrateful. "And I know that I had no choice in receiving what you've already given me, but it's enough. I will get it done using the power I have. I don't want any more."

"I just want to make you strong!" He insisted taking a step towards her that both knew was pointless as his spirit form was incapable of touching her. "Your mother…she's worried for you. We both are. When you find him….well, he didn't get to be the world's oldest man without knowing how to win. He…killed your mother and I. I don't want the same to happen to you. Not if I can help it."

"I know you want to protect me," she told him, touched by the depth of their worry for her, even after they had passed out of the realm of the living. "And I swear to you that I will be careful. I am not challenging him blindly. I have been training…I remember everything you've taught me and I'm getting better. I will find him and I vow to you and mom that I will not let him kill me. But I don't want your power, no matter how easily you may be able to give it to me. I want to remain as human as possible. I don't want to become…" she broke off, about to say something she was certain would offend her father.

"A monster?" He finished, apparently sensing what she had been holding back. He smiled however, did not seem offended. "You're not a monster Isabel. You are my daughter. You are beautiful and strong and capable. You are the most capable child that your mother and I could have asked for but….you don't understand how important it is that you find Methos and find him soon."

"Why?" Isabel was suddenly on the alert upon hearing the urgency in her father's tone. "I thought time was ours. What's happened?"

"I can't tell you." Her father said. And then, at her look, "I would if I could Isabel believe that, but I can't. Just know that our time is limited. There is a weapon in existence that could destroy your mother and I…this time completely. I don't know where, but I have reason to believe he does. You must accept what I want to give you."

"I…" she hesitated, not wanting to compromise her decision and at the same time not wanting to let her father down. Not a second time.

"You are strong," her father continued, "but I fear not strong enough."

"Then I will become so on my own." She said resolutely. "Dad, I love you. I won't let you down, but I have to do this on my own. More power….more strength…it will only weaken my humanity. You and mom were killed because you weren't human enough. I can't let that happen to me."

"Your mother and I were killed because we met another immortal who was power hungry and vicious." Her father told her firmly. "It had nothing to do with a lack of humanity. We just want to make sure the same doesn't happen to you."

"Is this…" she paused and swallowed slightly. "Is this weapon really capable of taking you away from me for good?"

"Yes," he told her with clear regret in his eyes. "Methos destroyed our bodies, but we were still able to appear to you because our souls were powerful and strong. Not everybody is capable of that. Only the strongest of immortals can appear to their loved ones after death, but if Methos gets hold of that weapon…"

"It can destroy your souls?" She suddenly found it hard to breath. The thought was terrifying not only for her parent's sake, but the idea that there was anything that powerful out there that was capable of that. She clenched her fists, more determined than ever to find Methos and destroy him.

"I don't want to frighten you Isabel, but if he finds that weapon…."

"He won't." She interrupted sternly. "I promise you dad, but I gotta do this my way OK? No more power. I'm already strong enough."

"You always were a stubborn one," he said with a sad shake of his head. "I must go now. It is taking too much energy to sustain this form."

"Will I see mom tomorrow?" She asked. Her parents could only appear to her one at a time, and they tended to alternate nights. Her father nodded.

"She will do her best to make it to you sweetheart. Maybe she can talk some sense into you."

"I doubt it," Isabel said with wry humour. "but I look forward to seeing her. I miss hugging you guys good bye you know."

"We miss it to," Her father told her sadly. "Good night Isabel."

"Good night dad," her words were lost on the wind as the image of her father had already disappeared. She tried to fix herself some dinner afterwards, but eventually gave up and called for delivery. She spent the remainder of the night eating pizza that seemed to have no taste and mulling over the conversation with her father. She didn't want this power that he was offering her. It frightened her beyond words and yet the idea of really losing them to Methos frightened her even more.

She would have to think about it, really think about it and decide at some point what she was really willing to do in order to win this…and what she was willing to give up.

* * *

_August 23rd, 7:00PM, London: England._

Willow Rosenburg breathed a sigh of relief as she shut the door to the bedroom she shared with her girlfriend Kennedy. Although living in the newly rebuilt Watcher's Headquarters was larger than Buffy's house had been, it was still a pretty crowded place, especially since there were twice the number of newly called slayers living and training there.

There were as many bedrooms in the large ancient building as there were a well priced hotel and a damn good thing too, as more slayers were showing up by the day. The dining and common areas tended to be more crowded than ever and the training areas were places Willow would have liked to avoid were it not for the fact that Kennedy spent much of her time there, training the other less experienced slayers.

She, Vi, Robin and Faith had been named as head trainers for the younger slayers as they had proven themselves the most capable in battle and Kennedy enjoyed the responsibilities placed on her. She reveled in her status as a slayer and Willow was immensely proud of how she handled her new powers and the slayers given to her charge.

Not all of the more experienced people were there all the time either. Faith was currently out finding a slayer in Peru with Robin, and Andrew in Turkey. Vi, Willow, and Kennedy traveled when it was necessary, but Willow preferred staying in one place despite how exciting it was to travel to new places. Her life had been uprooted so extremely that it felt comforting to have a place that even slightly felt like a home.

Still, that many people in one place tended to stress even the ever patient Willow to her limit, and she had wanted nothing more but to get away from the crowd at dinner and up to her room where she could have some piece before she had to get back to work.

There were more slayers out there. She could feel it inside. She was connected now to each and every one of them and every locator spell she did, only managed to find more as the days wore on. Willow had begun to think they would never stop coming.

Sometimes when she would do the locator spells, she would feel everything…their location, their names, their personalities, their dreams and their fears. Other times, she would get only the barest of information. Sometimes even the location was merely a picture in her head that took them a while to decipher. It varied and Willow was not yet sure why.

It was new, and strange and frightened her slightly. With every new slayer she located a new feeling of dread took route within her heart. She should be feeling positive. More slayers meant more security in the world's safety, but something was very wrong and getting worse by the day.

She hadn't told anybody of her fears yet…not even Kennedy, because she wanted to be wrong. She didn't want another big bad to emerge, or another apocalypse to deal with. Not after everything they had been through already. She had decided to take the child-like 'close your eyes and pretend it doesn't exist' approach in that respect, yet she couldn't ignore it too much longer. It grew stronger with every slayer she found.

Kennedy sensed something was off with her, but had the good sense not to pry. Willow was grateful for her being there. She was a comfort in a sea of uncertainty. But even with Kennedy around, Willow still missed Buffy, Xander and Dawn with an ache that surprised her.

They had been through so much, fought together side by side and now they were separated. It felt wrong. She had spoken to Buffy on at least a weakly basis, keeping her updated on their progress, the new watchers and the girls they had found, but it wasn't the same. She missed the sleepovers, the gab sessions, the games of 'anywhere but hear' when they got bored. And as much as she missed the slayer, she missed Xander ten times more than that.

He was a part of her in a way nobody else ever could be. Her other half. And not only was he in France with Buffy, but she hadn't been able to get him to speak in more than one or two short sentences whenever she called to talk to him. Buffy had told her he was hurting pretty badly over Anya's death, but was at a loss as to how to help him. Willow desperately wanted to be there for him, but knew that her presence was required here. It was a bitter pill to swallow to know her best friend was in such pain, but there was nothing she could do.

She sighed and turned on the TV, resolving to put her mind at ease for another few minutes or so before she had to do another locator spell to find more slayers. The spell drained her every time she did it, and she had to be at full strength for every attempt, otherwise she would find herself confined to her bed for sometimes one or two days at a time.

She had almost managed to fall asleep when the door opened and Kennedy came in. She glanced at her girlfriend slouched on the bed and gave her a tender smile.

"Did I wake you?"

"No, I hadn't actually fallen asleep yet." Willow admitted. "I was just drifting off."

"Oh, well I can…" Kennedy made a gesture that Willow interpreted as an offer to leave her in peace. The idea was tempting, but there was work to be done before she could take advantage of it.

"No, that's OK. I have to do a locator spell anyway." She sighed and sat up. "I'll need you here for that."

Kennedy had been invaluable. By acting as an anchor whenever Willow performed magick, she had kept her grounded and helped her to avoid the urge to give in to the darker side of her power. She was a calming influence. Kennedy gave a small smile, to show that she was eager to be of use and sat down on the bed.

"I'm ready when you are."

Willow nodded and stood up to retrieve some of the supplies she kept in her closet. Within moments she had prepared herself and her environment for the spell and sat down.

She placed her hands in Kennedy's and allowed her mind to float free of all the baggage and stress that had hounded it. It was incredibly peaceful before the spell actually began and Willow had begun to meditate in her spare time to achieve that peace without the magickal drainage that usually followed.

As she felt the peace wash over her, she began to chant. Low in her throat at first, then louder and louder until it was a steady drone within the room. Her hands tingled and Kennedy's twitched slightly. She knew the other girl felt the power swirling about her and took a deep breath.

She let her mind wander, searching, seeking the essence of the slayers that had yet to be found, but this time it wasn't as easy as it had been in the past. Something was hindering her…blocking her from seeing what the magick wanted her to see.

She frowned, though Kennedy couldn't see it, and doubled her efforts. The gnawing feeling of badness started to creep towards the edges of her soul, poking and prodding…looking for way in. Willow clenched her teeth and held tightly to Kennedy's hands, refusing to allow the darkness inside.

_If you don't see it, it doesn't exist, _she told herself, trying desperately to concentrate on the spell and not on the malignant feeling of doom that clawed at the very heart of her.

_Find the slayer, find the slayer, find the slayer…_she kept that mantra in her head as she chanted, hoping the determination would help, but it only made things hazier. The darkness was getting closer to finding a way in…closer to existing.

Sweat broke out on Willow's brow.

She kept chanting, allowing the perspiration to slide down her face, clutching Kennedy's hands and hoping against hope that she would find the slayer before she was drained completely or the darkness took her. She did not want to see the heart of what was coming. Already she knew it was something she could not stop, could not prevent on her own. But the slayer she had to find was tied to it.

She could feel it. If only she could make the picture clearer.

_Find the slayer, find the slayer, find the slayer…_

She felt Kennedy's breath catch and knew the other girl felt the blackness as well. It was getting too close. She couldn't keep this up much longer.

_Just a little bit more…_

And there it was…a clearing in the haze of uncertainty. Willow almost shouted aloud and ruined the entire thing. She could see! She could make out the location. There was no name, no picture in her head of the actual slayer, but she knew where to find her.

The slayer that would help defeat the coming dark was in Rome.

And with that realization came a renewed effort from the evil force. It was a push so strong, it nearly knocked Willow off the bed.

She tried to desperately to fight it, to keep the image of Rome until possibly a name, or facial picture appeared to her, but it was too strong.

The last thing she remembered was dropping Kennedy's hands before she passed out, allowing the spell and the access to the darkness to be broken.


	19. Apocalypse, Redux

Being shaken out of a deep sleep would normally make Buffy angry, but as her eyes adjusted to the light of Methos' upstairs kitchen, she found her mind was clouded more with worry than anger. If Willow or Giles was calling her at 3AM something was definitely wrong.

Given their over abundance of slayers anything that required her attention at this time of night had to be scary.

Methos stood behind her waiting anxiously as she padded over to the phone, realizing somewhat absently that she must look like something out of a horror film with her hair sticking out every which way and her pajamas and tank top in rumpled disarray. Methos as usual looked annoyingly adorable in his boxers and sans shirt. She shook those particular thoughts away and mumbled a 'hello' in to the receiver.

"Buffy? I'm so sorry to wake you up!" Willow's voice was nervous and hesitant. Buffy could almost feel the bad mojo coming out of the phone. She was immediately on alert.

"Don't worry about it Will," she assured her friend. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so," Willow's reply was sad, and regretful. It was obvious that the last thing she had wanted to do was to call Buffy. To do so was admitting this thing was too big for the lesser experienced slayers to handle. Bringing in Buffy meant it was probably of apocalyptic proportions and Buffy knew that made Willow sad for many reasons. It comforted her to know her friend was so reluctant to disrupt her new life, but hoped that this reluctance hadn't forced Willow to leave things any longer than she should have.

"Baddies?" She said with a heavy sigh. She could almost see Willow's nod on the other end of the phone. "Where's Giles?"

"Right beside me," was Willow's swift reply. "Look Buffy, you know I wouldn't call you on something like this unless there was no other choice, but…"

"I get it Will." She cut in, too tired to do anything but get the facts from her friend. "I understand, believe me. What's happening?"

"The short version?" Willow said wryly. "Apocalypse. Same old, same old."

"Who's doing it?" Buffy asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

"Who else?" Willow said with a dark chuckle. "Our old friend the First."

"I thought we beat it back," Buffy said, confusion lacing her voice. "We killed all the uber vamps and Caleb. It shouldn't have any power left."

"It's the source of all evil Buffy, there is no defeating it." Willow reminded her. "But you're right, its power was severely depleted and theoretically it shouldn't have been able to mount an assault of this scale just yet."

"But…" Buffy prompted.

"But, with the amount of slayers we've managed to find the balance between good and evil has been irrevocably disrupted." Willow told her. "Kind of like it was when you died. It's not enough to give the First as much power as it had before, but it still managed to give it a boost. And if it is able to gain more power, we'll be right back where we started…maybe even worse off. I don't think we can beat it again Buffy. We have to stop it before it gains that power."

"I agree," Buffy said with a nod. She ran her fingers through her hair and glanced over at Methos who was listening to her side of the conversation intently. "So how does it plan to gain this power? And how did you find this out?"

"I did a locater spell last night to find a slayer." Willow told her. "Only all I found was the location of where she was, but something interesting happened when I did the spell. I felt the first clawing at me…trying to stop me from finding her. It got so strong that right after I got the location, I passed out and didn't wake up again until about an hour ago. Because it tried to get so far inside me, I learned something about it as well. The slayer I was trying to find is in Rome and whatever it is that the First is looking for, it's linked to her. She will help to find it. You gotta find the slayer before the First does."

"Wow," Buffy said after Willow finished speaking. "Are you OK Willow? You said it got inside you. Are you…"

"Not veiny or dark," Willow assured her. "Just drained and scared. Buffy I don't know this girl's name, what she looks like, anything. All I know is that she's in Rome and we have to find her soon. I would send one of the other girls, but…"

"This is a job for Buffy Summers, super slayer." Buffy said grimly. "I get that. Sounds like this could be a pretty lengthy thing."

"I hate asking you to uproot like this, but…"

"Don't worry about it." Buffy cut in swiftly. "I'll live. It's not like this is home or anything…I hadn't even started to learn French."

"There's more to it Buffy." Willow said anxiously. "Giles did some checking and Cleveland wasn't the only other Hellmouth location."

"Let me guess…" Buffy said. "Rome has a Hellmouth?"

"Bingo." Willow replied. "Obviously that's why the power source is there."

"Makes sense." Buffy agreed.

"I'm gonna do what I can to find out more about what's going on," Willow continued. "Kennedy and I are heading to Brazil to see if we can get some help from an ancient sect of witches. Giles found some information on different covens around the world that might be able to help. It's a long shot, but…"

"Whatever it takes," Buffy agreed softly. "Thanks Will."

"I'll put Giles on for a minute." Willow told her. Then, after a seconds pause, she added softly. "Be careful Buffy."

"Always." Buffy promised. A moment later she heard Giles say hello. "So we're back in the thick of it then?"

"I am truly sorry Buffy." Giles too sounded saddened by the current turn of events. Buffy shrugged it off in favour of gaining information. She would feel sorry for herself later.

"What else do we know Giles?"

"Not much," Giles admitted. "Willow just knew the First was connected to the slayer you have to find. I'll be researching rather extensively while Willow and Kennedy are on their mission. Hopefully when this is done the First will be out of our hair for good."

"We thought so the last time too," Buffy said with a sad smile. "This thing is like a bad penny. It just keeps turning up."

"I have faith in you Buffy." Giles told her.

"Thanks." She said, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. "I'll be in touch once I get to Rome."

"If you need backup at all you let me know." Giles all but ordered. "Most of the girls are rather raw, but some are battle ready."

"Keep your slayers." Buffy said stiffly. "We'll be OK."

"Take care," Giles said before hanging up.

After Buffy did the same she turned to Methos who was watching her patiently.

"I'm going to Italy," she said somewhat unnecessarily. She was pretty certain he had gotten the idea from the conversation. "There's some bad mojo there that they need me to put down before it becomes apocalypt-y."

"OK," he said with a short nod. "I'll go with you."

"I wasn't asking for you to…"

"I know," Methos cut her off with a soft smile. "But you don't have any money or a place to live and I am not going to let you fly headlong into danger without me. It doesn't work that way."

"No," Buffy said with a shake of her head. "I'll figure something out, you don't have to baby sit me. Besides, Dawn is starting school soon and I need someone to make sure she doesn't…blow it up. It kinda runs in the family."

"You don't intend to take her with you either?" Methos stared at her and Buffy suddenly felt as if he were judging her.

"If this is half as bad as Willow says it's the last place I want her." She explained. "Surely you can understand that."

"She won't listen to you." Methos pointed out. "You know that. She won't let you go without her. Not if it's that dangerous. You won't be able to stop her…or me."

"Methos…"

"No," he said firmly. She was surprised at the determination in his gaze and backed up a step. "Look, I have a villa in Rome. We can make a new start there just as easily as we did here. Dawn can go to school there…we both know she is perfectly capable of picking up the language fairly quickly."

"What about Xander?" She asked.

"There's room," Methos replied easily. "He is more than welcome, although I doubt that it matters much to him where he lives. He's too far gone for that to matter."

She didn't like hearing that truth about Xander, so she pushed it from her thoughts.

"Why?" She asked him quietly. "You've done so much already. You don't owe me anything and I know you hate putting yourself at risk, so why dive into the heart of it?"

"Because I care about you." It was that heartbreakingly simple. She could see it in his eyes. Methos, the ultimate survivor would go right into the jaws of hell (and it looked as if that might well be the case) because he cared for her. The depth and meaning of that emotion frightened her more than she liked to admit.

"You'll help me find a school for Dawn?" She asked, her throat tight at the look of naked emotion on his face.

"I will do whatever you ask me to." He promised her. She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "When do we leave?"


	20. Neverending Battle

"We're going where?" Dawn stared at her sister in open-mouthed astonishment at her announcement. She had woken up that morning in a fairly cheerful mood only to have it dashed when she had come down the stairs to find Buffy sitting in the living room, watching TV. It wasn't the fact that it looked like she had been there most of the night that had Dawn worried however, it was the look in her eyes. They bore the weight and responsibility of the slayer, a look she hadn't worn for months now. It let Dawn know right away that something was wrong. But she hadn't in a million years expected to hear what Buffy was now telling her.

"Italy," she repeated calmly. She didn't want Dawn to see how worried she was, so she attempted to appear calm and unfazed. Her sister wasn't buying it. Methos pretended to stay out of the entire thing by making breakfast in the kitchen, but Buffy knew that he was listening intently to every word. "Rome to be more specific. Apparently there's an active Hellmouth there."

"There's one in Cleveland too," Dawn pointed out. "Why send you there? There are other slayers."

"The one in Cleveland isn't about to give the First Evil another boost of world destroying goodness." Buffy said with a sigh. "I'm sorry Dawn, but we have to go there and I have to stop this."

"I know you weren't happy about the Richie thing, but moving me to Italy is a little extreme isn't it?" Dawn's attempt at a joke fell on deaf ears as Xander walked into the living room and took notice of the charged atmosphere.

"What's going on?" He looked to Methos, then to Buffy and finally Dawn. He appeared to have been out all night but nobody made mention of it. At the look on all of their faces, even Xander seemed to put aside his pre-occupation with self destruction in order to find out what was happening.

"Willow called last night." Dawn told him with a sigh. "Looks like this is a job for Super woman. Hope you know some Italian, cause we're going to Rome."

"Italy?" Xander echoed. "Why?"

"Hellmouth, what else?" Dawn replied bitterly. She was secretly glad that Buffy had automatically included her in the moving plans and yet at the same time felt as if she had just lost her best friend. If they were leaving for Italy, that meant leaving Richie too. And just as if it had seemed they were going to start something, it had ended just as quickly.

"Willow had sort of a vision," Buffy supplied. "It looks like Rome has an active Hellmouth and either we go and stop it, or the First gains power and then it's good by world, hello hell."

"So we're definitely leaving then?" Xander clarified.

"As soon as we can," Buffy told him, wondering why his good eye seemed to light up at the prospect of the impending apocalypse. It was a strange light, and completely unlike Xander in every way. She began to wonder just how far deeply he had fallen and if he would ever recover. "Adam has a villa there."

"What about school?" Dawn asked her, hating the fact that part of her hoped Buffy would tell her to stay in Paris, possibly with Richie and go to school away from the danger. She squashed that thought almost immediately, hating her own selfishness. Her sister was going into another fight, possibly one she wouldn't win. To want to stay in Paris because of a boy she liked rather than be at her side if that happened was beyond contempt.

"There are many schools in Rome with a comprehensive program to help people who don't speak the language adjust." Methos put in from the kitchen. "Given your talent for languages Dawn, it shouldn't take you long."

Dawn smiled at the compliment and Buffy nodded, seeming to believe the conversation to be over.

"I'll go pack," Xander said quietly as he ascended the stairs. The room was silent for a few moments. Finally, Dawn spoke.

"I really liked him Buffy." She didn't need to tell her sister who she was referring to. Buffy smiled sadly.

"I know you did Dawnie," she pulled her close and hugged her gently. "And I swear to you I didn't want this to happen…well OK, maybe I did a little, but y'know, without the apocalypse. The world doesn't work that way. As soon as we defeat the first once and for all…"

"Then another big bad will pop up to take its place," Dawn interjected, anger lighting up her eyes. "That's the way it always is, isn't it? Making all those slayers was supposed to give us a break Buffy, but that will never happen will it? There will always be something out there that the others just can't handle. We're never going to stop are we?"

"Of course we are!" Buffy said fiercely. "Just because those other girls aren't ready yet, doesn't mean they never will be. There are tons of other slayers out there Dawn and one day any one of them will be the ones to step up and do what we've been doing for seven years now."

"But will they?" Dawn retorted. "Or will you send them away? Face it Buffy, we may be out, but you will never stop. There could be a hundred million other slayers and you'll keep doing it. You can't help it. Once a slayer always a slayer right? Well what if I get tired of running?"

"If you really feel that way, I won't ask you to come with me." Buffy told her quietly. "I'm sure Duncan or Joe will be happy to have you with them while I fight…"

"I'm not saying I want you to fight without me." Dawn interrupted. "Not this time. But what about when I grow up and get a job and move away? I'm always going to be waiting for that phone call from Willow or Xander saying that you're dead because you couldn't let it go."

"I don't know what to say Dawn." Buffy shook her head in resignation. "You're right. This is something I will never stop doing. And I'm sorry, but I can't help that. I wish I could give you more than this life, but this is the best I can do. Now you can stay here if you want, but I am asking you to come to Rome with me because I believe in you. Will you help me Dawn?"

Dawn looked at her sister and felt a rush of emotion overwhelm her. Years of fighting with her, of begging Buffy to look seriously at her attributes and trust her as a fighter and her moment was finally here. But it was not without a price and that price was Richie Ryan. Try as she might, she could not banish him from her thoughts. Sighing heavily, she smiled in an attempt to lighten the conversation.

"It never fails," she quipped. "I get a guy interested and the end of the world breaks out."

"Believe me, I know how it feels." Buffy told her with a bittersweet edge to her voice.

From his position in the kitchen, Methos felt his heart go out to both of them as he realized that from here on in, things would only get worse.


	21. The Bartender Knows All

Author's Note: Special thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, but especially to Cha Cha1 who helped me modify this chapter. Your suggestions were really helpful, so thank you!

* * *

Richie Ryan felt frustrated beyond words as he watched Dawn Summers leave Joe's bar with her sister to go home and pack for Italy. He had listened to her reasons for going with understanding and as much patience as he could muster with Buffy watching them out of the corner of her eye from another table, but inside he was very angry that she was leaving. He wasn't even entirely sure why. They had known each other, only a few short months. And they closest they had gotten to a 'date' in any sense of the word was now cancelled due to their hasty moving plans. It wasn't as if he had pledged his undying love to her or anything like that.

But he had worked up the courage to ask her out and it angered him that he wouldn't get to find out what that might have been like. He knew it wasn't Buffy's fault. Regardless of her reservations concerning him and Dawn (and he had to admit that they weren't entirely without reason), he knew she wouldn't have done this on purpose to keep him from seeing her. The threat was real, he was certain enough of that. And Dawn cared for her sister far too much to just allow her to face that threat alone. They were a team. Richie could tell from the moment he met them that they didn't let each other face danger alone. Even Xander, who had done his level best to stay aloof from everyone else, was part of that team. All for one and one for all and all that.

Richie knew what that was like. He, Joe, Mac, even Methos and Amanda would band together if they had to, if something was threatening their existence or way of life. Immortals weren't supposed to make close ties, or close friendships, but somehow they had managed to do just that. If it ever came down to him and Mac as the 'last' immortals, Richie knew for a fact that Duncan would not challenge him for the prize. And he would not do so to Duncan. The prize was not something that mattered for any of them…not even the old man. It was the ties that bind that were important to Richie and he was beginning to feel that closeness with Dawn, hoping to further it. And now she was leaving.

"Rough break kid," Joe sat down beside him, rubbing a dirty bar glass with a soapy cloth and looking towards the door that Buffy and Dawn had left through. Obviously he had heard the whole conversation.

"Yea, well…" Richie trailed off, not really knowing what to say to the older man. Joe had his bartender face on, the one that said 'tell me your troubles', but Richie was never really that good at pouring his heart out to people…not even his closest friends. The only person he could ever really talk to was Mac.

"You should go after her," Joe continued, ignoring Richie's reticence to talk about his feelings. "You can't just let her get away."

"Yea, right!" Richie scoffed. "I'll just knock on the old man's door with my sleeping bag and pillow and ask if he's willing to put me up for a while."

It was then the feeling of an approaching immortal came over Richie and he tensed until the door opened revealing Duncan MacLeod, recently returned from his trip to the States.

"I'm serious," Joe chided with a poke to Richie's shoulder. "You'll never get anywhere sitting around here. I bet Mac would agree with me. Hell, he'd probably do the same thing."

"Do what?" Mac asked as he approached Joe and Richie, giving them both nods of 'hello'. "What are we talking about?"

"Buffy, Dawn and Xander are leaving Paris." Richie told Duncan before Joe could interject his own personal opinion on the situation. "I guess there's some rising evil in Italy that they have to go and fight."

"Oh really?" Duncan sounded genuinely disappointed. "I'll miss them." Richie wondered if he would miss Buffy and the others as much as he would miss the challenge of trying to help the aloof Xander Harris come out of his funk. He had been trying to get through to the guy ever since Buffy had confided her worries about him. Duncan would never admit it, but he always thought himself good with people and situations and not being able to help someone would be a blow to him.

"Yea, well the old man's going with them as well." Richie told Duncan. He would never tell the Highlander this, but secretly he valued the other man's experience in life and desire to dispense advice. He didn't always listen, but it helped to have another more mature person's take on what he should do. If he played it right, Duncan would think the advice-giving was his idea.

"Methos is going to help the slayer fight evil?" MacLeod's eyebrows couldn't have climbed any higher if they'd tried. "I go away for a few days and the world goes crazy!"

"It's not so crazy. In fact, it's pretty obvious." Joe replied as he set a glass of frothy beer in front of the man. Duncan automatically slapped some money down on the bar and took a swig. "He's had it for her ever since she first showed up. Oddly enough for all his other 'talents' wooing women has never really been up there on the list."

"I knew he was interested, but I didn't think he'd go this far." Duncan was surprised he wasn't the only one who had seen Methos' interest in the slayer. "As for 'wooing' he's no Don Juan, but he has had sixty eight wives."

"Wonder how many of 'em were given to him in trade." Joe cracked. Richie snickered.

"Well I guess this answers the question of 'just what exactly can make Methos put himself in harm's way'. Too bad he doesn't have a crush on any of us." Richie mused more to himself than anyone else.

"Let's NOT go there!" Duncan exclaimed, taking another heartier swig of his beer.

"Speaking of crushes," Joe prompted. Richie pretended to ignore him until Joe in exasperation told Duncan of his problem. "I think he should just go with them." Joe concluded.

"Finally admitted that you like her, have you?" Duncan shot Joe a knowing look.

"Oh yea, right like you guys have known all along." Richie scoffed. Duncan shrugged and Joe attempted to whistle innocently. "You have?"

"It's pretty obvious," Duncan said with a smirk.

"So what, everybody knows?" Richie felt a little silly realizing that everyone seemed to know what had taken him a good long while to realize himself.

"Everyone with eyes, yea." Joe added. "Not your usual type of girl though, I'll give you that."

"What do you mean?" Richie couldn't help but be defensive after all of this.

"Well you usually go for older women," Duncan replied, his tone holding a trace of amusement as he remembered Richie's infatuation with Amanda at first, not to mention Kristen and many others. "And they tend to be more…experienced."

"Yea, but those have never meant anything." Richie replied realizing however belatedly that they hadn't. "This is much different."

"Is that what took you so long to ask her out?" Joe asked. Richie looked at him in surprise.

"How did you know about that?"

"I'm a Watcher and a bar tender." Joe said benignly. "I know everything."

"She's special OK? I was nervous." He looked to both of them and felt his shoulders slump. Seems he couldn't get anything past these guys. "I didn't want to screw it up."

"Which is why you should go to Italy." Joe persisted. "If you really are serious, you can't let her leave…especially for Italy of all places."

"Why, what's special about Italy?" Richie looked to the two of them in confusion. Duncan simply shot Joe a knowing look.

"If you don't, all those Italian guys will have a chance with her." Duncan reasoned. "And you know how they are."

Richie didn't, but he guessed from Duncan's tone what he was implying. He didn't like it.

"I still think you guys are nuts," Richie shot back. "I can't just take off and go to Italy." Even as he said it though, his mind was running through the various reasons why he could or couldn't go.

"Sure you can." Duncan said with a shrug. "You said Methos is going, didn't you? Stay at his place. That's probably where the others are staying."

"For what reason?" Richie wondered. "I mean, I can't just say 'hey guys, fighting the first evil sounds like fun, can I come too?'"

"Why not?" Duncan replied. "You want to be around Buffy's sister, and you don't want to see her come to harm. Just tell them that. I'm sure they'll be OK with it."

"I dunno…" Richie spoke cautiously, but inside his mind was running away with him. If he could simply convince Methos to give him a room at his place in Italy, he and Dawn could fight whatever it was together, side by side. He could prove to Buffy that he wasn't a danger to her little sister and just how much he cared for her. They could explore whatever it was they felt for one another and he wouldn't have to worry about her meeting somebody else and forgetting about him. He had no particular ties that bound him to Paris, other than that was where his friends were. And men like Duncan MacLeod never stayed in one place for too long anyway. They were constantly moving back and forth from place to place. He would see Duncan and Joe again, that much was certain. So why not?

"Let me ask you something Rich," Duncan said turning his chair to face the younger immortal. "Do you really like Dawn? Is this something you feel serious about? Or is it frivolous?"

"I care about her Mac," Richie said through clenched teeth. "I know you think I'm a flake when it comes to girls, but Dawn is different." He felt silly telling this to another guy, but in some ways Duncan felt very much like a father figure and Richie had never had that before.

"I understand what you mean." Duncan assured him. Richie relaxed slightly as he realized that Duncan hadn't meant to offend him with the question. "I just meant that if she was just a casual interest, then you won't be any worse off when she leaves. If you really care about her, then I don't see why you shouldn't go with them."

"I don't wanna come on too strong Mac," Richie said, biting his lip as he turned the idea over in his head. "I mean how's it gonna look if I show up and say 'hey I want to date you so I'm gonna follow you to Italy?'"

"Like you care for her?" Joe put in.

"Seriously Joe!" Richie insisted. "I mean, think about it. I'm gonna come off as a crazy stalker or something."

"I doubt she'll think of you that way." Duncan said with a slight laugh. "She's known you long enough now I think to know the interest is genuine. With the life she leads Richie, moving things faster than you intended might be a good idea. She could go to Italy and come back a year or so later, or she could go there and find someone else…"

"Or be killed." Richie said with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Dawn Summers was the sister of the slayer. She was going there to fight and she might not make it back. Richie knew that lifestyle better than anyone. He lived constantly with the knowledge that any day now he, or one of his friends might be challenged and lose and that person would be gone from his life very violently and very permanently. It was the cruelest irony that immortals tended to have the most precarious life spans of any creature out there.

He knew unequivocally that if he was to have a chance at all with Dawn Summers then it would have to be with her, fighting side by side. Looking at Duncan he could tell the Highlander knew and understood his decision. He stood up.

"Listen Mac…"

"Go pack Richie." MacLeod said with a nod. "But don't leave here without bringing them back to this bar to say good bye."

"No prob," Richie said as he left Joe's and headed to Methos' to tell Dawn his decision.


	22. Xander's dance

Xander couldn't wait for the night to be over. All around him people smiled, laughed, drank and enjoyed themselves. Buffy had wanted to leave as soon as possible for Rome, but Duncan and Joe had insisted that a good bye party was in order and in the interest of not appearing rude or ungrateful, Buffy had convinced Xander to put in an appearance. He didn't have to heart to say it to her, but he personally didn't give a damn if he appeared rude or ungrateful. He couldn't care less what these people thought of him either way. He just wanted to leave.

All he cared about at present was getting to Rome, to another Hellmouth, to continue the only thing that held any interest for him anymore: fighting. Paris was a nice city as far as cities went, but in Xander's opinion it had far too many immortals and far too little demons. His nightly patrols often came up eventless, leaving him angry and hurting. It was those nights that he was left alone with his thoughts that memories of Anya took over. All he could think of were his own failures towards her and everything else he had done wrong.

He still ached to go back for her. It was a constant pain that never seemed to abate, no matter how many demons he killed.

But it made him feel better when he was fighting for his life, if only marginally. It made him feel alive, like he was making a difference. As if he could make up for his failure to save her by saving others. He knew it was impossible, but it was all he could do. It was all he knew how to do. Self loathing and anger was the only thing that kept him going. He was no stranger to it. He had always had that anger within him, but he was usually able to mask it with lame self deprecating jokes. Every now and then he would let it out and hurt someone in the process…usually Buffy. Up until this point, Spike and Angel were pretty much the only two beings that could cause him to lash out the way he was known to. Now almost anything set him off.

He knew the others were worried, knew they cared, but they were too wrapped up in their own new lives and new problems to really see how far Xander was sinking. Even he was blind to it for the most part.

Looking at the others, he felt a tug within the places that had long gone cold within his heart. Dawn and Richie sat together, laughing and talking animatedly. Buffy and Adam sat next to them doing the same, albeit their conversation seemed a bit tense compared to Dawn and Richie. Joe was on stage playing with his band and Duncan sat down with the other four, handing all of them drinks. Xander sat alone at the table next to them, staring at the clock and feeling like a caged animal. He didn't sit apart on purpose. There was a limited amount of space at their table, and though Buffy had pulled them together, Xander opted for the isolated seat away from the main group. It was logical as he was the one without any real ties to Duncan and the others and given that the going away party was mainly for Buffy and Dawn's benefit he would have felt like an intruder had he insisted he sit at the main table.

How odd it was to feel like an outsider. It shouldn't seem odd, as Xander had always been a social outsider in high school and then later on when the gang had gone to college leaving Xander as the only one at first in the workforce. And yet in both these cases, he had had his friends to cling to, to let him know that he wasn't alone. Now, that was gone. Buffy and Dawn seemed to fit in seamlessly with this new world and Xander had been left to drift. A small part of him resented them for it, but he quashed it, admonishing himself for thinking such a thing. Buffy and Dawn had arguably suffered more than he ever would. They were entitled to a little happiness. Xander just didn't like to see it rubbed in his face this way. Not when he was hurting so terribly.

It looked as if the younger immortal Richie Ryan would be joining them at Adam's Italian villa in order to spend more time with Dawn. Any other time Xander would have felt the need to watch him, to protect Dawn in case he was wrong for her. He would have felt a brotherly resentfulness to her growing up. Now, all he felt was apathy. He watched as they got up to dance and sighed, turning his head away. He didn't even notice Buffy approaching him until she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Wanna dance?" She quirked a smile at him and reached out her hand to him. He didn't want to dance. He didn't want to do anything that resembled being social, but the hopefulness in her eyes was hard to turn away from.

"Yea, OK." He stood up reluctantly and followed her to the short space that was the designated dance floor. Joe was singing a slow blues tune that was easy to get the rhythm of. They didn't speak for several minutes and for the first time since he had asked her out and subsequently been rejected, Xander felt awkward with Buffy.

"You haven't said much all night Xand," Buffy said softly. Her words were meant to sound like a simple observation, but Xander could hear the question within them. The same question they had all been asking him since Sunnydale disappeared. _Are you OK?_

"Not much to say." He replied with a slight edge to his voice. "I'm not as close to everyone here as you are. I wouldn't know where to begin."

"You've been real lone wolf-y since we got here." Buffy stated with a false casualness that annoyed him slightly. "You haven't given any of them a fair chance."

"I don't have to like everybody you do you know." Xander said, feeling his jaw tighten and his body go tense.

"I'm not asking you to." Buffy reassured him. "I'm just trying to talk to you. Why do you have to be so defensive?"

"I don't know." Xander admitted, letting his shoulders slump and his guard down for the first time that night. "I…I just don't feel right here. This is your night. I shouldn't be here bringing it down."

"You're not," Buffy said firmly. "You are part of the family Xander. The Scooby Gang. One for all and all for one remember?"

"That's the three musketeers." Xander said with a faint smile. Inside he wondered why that motto had not applied when he had been dragged out of the crumbling high school as he searched for Anya. "You're mixing your metaphors."

"Muskateers, stooges, three headed monkeys whatever, we are a team. You, me and Dawnie. We have to stick together. Lately it seems you've been here, but not…you know?" She sighed and looked him in the eye. "I know what that's like. When I was pulled out of heaven, I did the same thing you're doing."

"It's not like that," Xander argued. Then, in an attempt to lighten things, "for one thing I'm not sleeping with Spike."

"No," she said softly, her face falling as she thought of the dead bleached blonde vampire. "You're not."

Xander suddenly felt like a first class jerk for bringing him up. He knew that she had come to care for him very deeply after his soul was restored and even though he couldn't for the life of him understand why, he knew she was still hurting from his loss.

"Jeez Buff I'm sorry. My mouth doesn't even try to correspond with my brain anymore." He shrugged. "Guess they're not on speaking terms."

"It's OK," she replied easily, though her eyes betrayed those words. "This isn't about me and Spike. It's about you."

"What do you want from me Buffy?" Xander asked, weary of the conversation and eager to get back to his seat.

"I want you to be OK," Buffy told him, her eyes searching his for some sort of sign to that end. Evidently finding none, she sighed sadly. "I want to help you if you're not."

"That's nice," he told her honestly, not wanting to anger her. "But did you ever think that maybe you can't? That maybe this is something I have to figure out on my own? I love you guys, but I can't be the person you need me to be. Not yet."

"We don't need you to be anybody but Xander Harris." Buffy told him firmly. She sighed once more and let go of him as the song ended. "If you see him, just pass that message along, OK?"

And with that, she headed back to her seat.


	23. Friends and Lovers

Author's Note: My deepest and most sincere thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. Those of you who keep sending regular reviews are the highlight of this entire process. Without you guys I would have no reason to continue writing it, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

* * *

Methos watched, as Xander left the dance floor and headed outside while Buffy, clearly discouraged, sat back down at the table. She was visibly tense. His first reaction was to touch her shoulders and offer comfort, but he wasn't entirely sure if that would be welcome. They were on shaky ground after their last encounter at Joe's and he was hesitant now about physical signs of affection.

"He all right?" Duncan asked, apparently noticing Buffy's distress. Methos shot the Highlander a 'drop it' look, but either he didn't see it, or chose to ignore it.

"It's like he's not even here." Buffy said sadly. "I don't know how to get through."

"Maybe you can't," Duncan said softly. "There's no shame in that."

"Yea, well it sure as hell feels like I've failed him." There was a bitterness in her voice that worried Methos and as Joe launched into another ballad, he seized upon it, and grabbed her hand pulling her gently, but firmly onto the dance floor.

She was surprised at first, but didn't resist. Truth was, she was upset by the vacant look she had seen in Xander's eyes and wanted the comfort and the closeness that Methos was offering.

She allowed him to pull her into his arms, and rested her head against his chest inhaling the scent of him and instantly relaxing slightly.

He was confused slightly by her reaction, but not unhappy about it. He held her gently, and they swayed gently to the music, both lost in pretending that everything was OK between them and the rest of the world. Eventually Methos broke the spell and pulled back to look at her.

"I know you care for him, but you can't heal him." He hated the truth of his words, but felt she needed to hear and understand them or she would drive herself mad. "You may be the slayer, but your powers can't repair the damage he's suffered. It's beyond you."

"It's my fault." She told him. It was the first time she had voiced those words out loud and doing so only made them feel even more true. "And he knows it. I took him in there against Caleb and the first. He lost his eye because of me. Then Anya died and…I don't know if he blames me, but he has every right to."

"You can't take responsibility for every injury those around you suffer." Methos told her. "Xander chose to fight with you. He chose to love someone who did the same thing. Is that your fault as well?"

"You don't understand." Her eyes glinted with a hard stubbornness that reminded him sometimes of Duncan.

"I do understand, and you know it." He told her, just as stubbornly. "I know you Buffy. Whether you like it or not, I know you better than most people. You take on too much responsibility and guilt. When I first met you…"

"When you first met me, I had just killed the man I loved to save the world and then abandoned my friends to think I might be dead." She spat angrily. "Don't you dare try to tell me I shouldn't have felt guilty about that."

"I'm not saying that." Methos said patiently. "But I am saying that you have to move past the guilt and recognize that not everything is your fault. You had to kill him. And Xander has to deal with his own loss his own way. You have to realize that."

"You think you know me," she said with a heavy sigh, "but it's been so long since we've seen each other…I'm not anything like the girl I was then. I'm….harder, colder."

"I don't see that." He told her. She shook her head.

"You're not looking hard enough." She met his gaze and shivered slightly at the emotion she saw in his eyes. "It feels like the older I get the more I lose of my humanity. I can't love someone the way I should. It's like I've lost a vital part of myself. I just don't want that to happen to Xander too."

"I don't know about Xander," Methos admitted. "But I know you can love. I've seen it. It's in the way you care for your sister, your worry for Xander, the guilt you still feel over Angel, the feelings you had for Spike. All of these things are proof positive that you have not lost anything."

"What about us?" She looked at him as if to challenge him. He felt his heart speed up at the idea of there being an 'us' for them to discuss, but banished it. "I know you have feelings Methos…and part of me wants to…"

"Wants to what?" He felt his breath catch slightly. They were actually discussing it now. It was now or never to show her how much he cared.

"To care back…to try to feel again, but I…" she trailed off, unable to articulate her thoughts. He watched the emotions swirl in her eyes and reached out, unable to help himself, and brushed the hair from her eyes, trailing his fingers lightly down the line of her jaw.

"It's not hard Buffy," he said softly.

"It is." She replied biting her lip. He was so heart stoppingly beautiful that she almost chucked her resolve entirely and kissed him, but she managed to keep herself in check. "I'm just so tired of trying and failing…I couldn't love Riley properly, I couldn't be what Spike needed. I don't want to hurt you. I don't think I could be what you need, and I don't want to go through that hell trying."

There, she had said it. She watched his eyes intently for anger or hurt, but saw neither of those two emotions. To her great surprise she instead saw warmth tenderness. He touched her face again ever so softly and her heart raced in response.

"Buffy what do you think I want from you?" It was a simple enough question, but the look on her face told him that she had spent too much time in relationships where she had been unable to provide whatever the answer had been.

"I don't know." She finally admitted. Her voice was small and frightened. "I just know that if I can't give it to you there's always a chance that our friendship might be lost and I don't want that. Not ever."

"That is something you will never have to worry about." He vowed. "As for what I want, why don't I show you?"

Slowly, so that she had every opportunity to back out if she chose, he bent towards her and kissed her softly, but with all the emotion inside him. It was brief, but he made his point. When he pulled back he cupped her chin in his hands.

"I'm not looking for any declarations, or vows." He promised. "I'm not asking for anything that you don't want to give. I care about you…very deeply and I don't know where that will take us, but I want the chance to be able to find out."

"I don't know." She looked away, fearing that any moment she would break down and promise more than she could deliver.

"I won't push you." He stated. "But let me ask you this. Do you have feelings for me? Beyond friendship?"

"I…" she trailed off. She did have feelings…very deep feelings, but to say them out loud was to commit to a course of action she was still very frightened of. She wasn't ready to lose Methos the friend, no matter how appealing Methos the lover might be. It was all too much too soon.

Her hesitation did not go unnoticed however, as he nodded in understanding and stepped back returning her personal space to her.

"I meant what I said about not pushing." His eyes were sad, but resigned. "When you are ready to answer the question I just asked you, let me know. I will be waiting."


	24. The City Stirs

Although Buffy would miss Joe and Duncan, she was eager to get to Italy. It was almost comforting to have an apocalypse to prevent. Unlike her personal life, the end of the world was something she felt fairly competent handling. Dawn sensed her eagerness as well, but if she had been watching the dance between her and Methos the night before, she didn't say anything.

Xander hadn't said much during the flight and even less once they arrived at Methos' villa. Every time Bufy attempted to talk to him, she was met with a wall of stony silence, which only re-enforced her worry that she had indeed driven him even further into himself.

Methos' villa was deceptively modest. It was a fair size, but sparse enough for him to play the part of a man who had to pay the bills if he had to. She noticed that he made it a habit of never living outside the means of the average man, even if it meant skimping on personal luxury. It gave her some insight on his ability to survive for so long, to remain hidden and unnoticed by the immortal world.

He had not tried to broach the topic of the previous night's conversation again and that surprised Buffy slightly. She had expected him to brood, or to behave in some way that betrayed his emotions over what had transpired, but instead he had reverted with disturbing ease to that of the supportive good friend-the man she had met five years ago. It made her wonder whether any of his emotions had ever been real if he could shut them off so easily. She knew that she was being unfair with that line of thought, as a man his age would have learned to suppress emotion in order to deal with century after century of pain and loss. Still, it bothered her that she still felt fairly raw about the whole thing and he seemed perfectly fine.

She attempted to call the Watcher's Headquarters when they arrived, but got no answer. She left the number for Methos' villa on the machine, hoping it was Giles or Willow who checked it and proceeded to outline a list of things that needed to be done in order to find the slayer.

Dawn was actually an integral part of this, as she was the only one of them young enough to still attend high school. If this girl was in the typical slayer age range, she would be either Dawn's age or older. The odds were in their favour that she wouldn't be any younger than that. It was by no means the only high school in Rome, but it was a high school nonetheless and Dawn would be in a prime position to observe her classmates around her and keep an eye out for anything odd, or slayer-like. She knew, better than anyone what to look for.

Richie had instructions to keep an eye on Dawn any time she was in any sort of potentially dangerous situation. Although Buffy knew that Dawn was not incapable of handling herself in a fight, she was still a rather small teenaged girl without any super powers whatsoever. Richie was immortal and not likely to die if faced with a vampire or demon of any kind. Immortals were another story, and Buffy realized she was taking a risk by entrusting Dawn to Richie's care, but she had no other option. This turned out to be the lesser of the two evils.

Xander offered to patrol, looking both for the slayer and any signs of the First attempting its return any time soon. Buffy agreed, knowing that his forays into the Paris night had not been for the fresh air alone. Xander might be on the edge emotionally, but physically he had never been a better fighter. It was as if his fear had disappeared entirely leaving only one thing in its wake: a killer. Buffy was saddened by this, but also smart enough to use it to their advantage. She would work on Xander's mental health after they saved the world.

Buffy had decided that she would begin her own search by going to the local library and looking through various newspapers from the past four months in the hopes of finding articles with mentions of freak occurrences involving girls with amazing strength. Normally, she would search for the slayers hoping they had managed to keep a low profile, but accidents did happen and in this case an accident might be the only hope she had of finding the girl. It was more than likely she didn't know who she was either, and that made her less likely to be discreet in the use of her strength. A simple task like throwing a baseball could be more than the girl bargained for and hopefully it would be enough to warrant a newspaper article.

Methos would have to come with her to help her look. He was the only one who knew Italian. When she broached the subject to him, he agreed without question, but stipulated they have a day or two to settle in and search for schools for Dawn as the first day was fast approaching. Buffy agreed, and the next day she, Dawn, Richie and Methos all set out to find a high school that had both a comprehensive English program as well as the slight possibility of a slayer being located there. Buffy wasn't sure what to look for specifically, but she kept her eyes open for anything unique or out of the ordinary, prepared to use it to her advantage if need be.

Eventually they found a school with a name Buffy couldn't pronounce. There was no evidence of a possible slayer there from the questions Buffy had asked the Principal but that didn't mean there couldn't be. She had to be subtle with what she asked her so it was harder to glean the information she needed. It was a small school, but it had a separate English program that helped integrate the student into Italian life, and Dawn seemed to like it so Buffy was satisfied.

That night, for the first time in a long while, Buffy patrolled but with little in the way of results. There were demons in Rome, that much was not in question. She did manage to kill two vampires as well as a Locknar demon, but they weren't what she was looking for.

Eventually she headed home in defeat, hoping she had better luck in the coming nights. Methos had offered to patrol with her that night, but Buffy knew it was only out of his care for her. Being an immortal, he tended to avoid Hellmouths whenever possible. The only reason he even kept a place in Rome was because until the Sunnydale Hellmouth was closed by Buffy in defeating the First, the Rome Hellmouth was for all intents and purposes, inactive. Now that the Sunnydale Hellmouth was gone, the Rome Hellmouth was the new big evil and that meant demons and vamps would be flocking to the city to get their piece of things. Methos would want to stay as far away from that kind of danger as much as possible.

And Buffy wanted him far away as well. Immortal blood was poisonous to vampires, and they would not go anywhere near an immortal if they could help it. Although the purpose of the patrol was the find the young slayer, she was still a slayer herself and killing vampires was part of the job. If Methos were with her, they would not even show themselves and people might die as a result. Better to have him stay home and be able to fight without hindrance.

Of course, there was also the matter of her confusing feelings toward the world's oldest man, but she had managed to convince herself that was not the reason she turned down his offer. It was simply less complicated this way.

The house was asleep as she entered it. She made as little noise as possible not wanting to disturb the others. Xander was not back yet, but the others were as far as she knew in their beds fast asleep. Dawn was starting school the next day and she knew her sister was nervous about that. Richie had offered to take her so that Buffy could hit the local libraries and search for the girl.

They were acting more and more like a couple as the days went by, which Buffy found interesting as they hadn't actually gone out on an official date yet, and as far as Buffy knew hadn't done anything in the physical sense. She still had reservations about the entire thing, but was attempting to stay on the positive side for the sake of her sister.

She began creeping up to her room, when she felt the immortal buzz hit her, signaling that Methos was close by. Sure enough, seconds later the door to the back patio opened and the tall silhouette entered turning on a light and smiling mildly as she jumped in surprise.

"There's no reason I should have frightened you." He said with that annoying blaze logic of his. "You knew I was coming."

"Doesn't mean that immortal sense-y buzz gets any less creepy you know." She immediately regretted her choice of words as his gaze flickered with buried emotion. He shook it off.

"Thought I'd wait for you to get back." He told her. "I was worried. Newly active Hellmouths can sometimes be more dangerous than you anticipate."

She didn't ask him how he knew this. She had a feeling she didn't want to. Instead she smiled in a way that hopefully showed everything was fine.

"Patrol was peachy." She told him. "Just fine."

"I'm glad," he said earnestly. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'll head to bed now."

"Yea, I'll do the same." She wondered briefly if this awkwardness would ever go away. Was he even feeling it? He didn't seem to be.

"Good night," he said softly. She swallowed heavily, returned the statement and headed upstairs towards her new bedroom.

* * *

Isabel woke up that night, feeling the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Somehow, something was wrong in the city. She didn't know why, but she could feel it. Tonight something had changed.

The fact that she could feel this newness in her bones frightened her. She had thought that the only power her parents had given her after their death was her strength. Now, she wondered if she had inherited some sort of psychic abilities as well.

She had been having odd dreams, some of them nightmares. All of them had to do with Methos, and with the coming danger her parents had warned her about. She didn't know what he looked like in the dreams, but somehow she automatically knew who he was. The odd thing was that in the dreams instead of Methos being a figure of menace, her parents were the ones whose presence gave her the chills.

Many people would find that normal. They were after all spirits come back from the beyond to help her to avenge their deaths. In terms of reality she had handled their re-appearance in her life fairly well. But then, she had thought them indestructible to begin with, so the idea that they would find their way back to her-while ridiculous and impossible to most-to her seemed entirely logical.

They hadn't frightened her in any way, shape or form when they first appeared. In fact, she had been relieved, seeking their guidance as she had so often as a child.

She wasn't a child anymore, so technically she didn't need them. Still, without them she had felt adrift. She wasn't a teenager, but she wasn't an adult either. They had been very wealthy in their immortal lives, so she hadn't had to worry about money after their deaths, but that isn't always the sort of guidance one needs.

They had always been truthful with her, never hiding their immortal status or their powers. So why had they given her these powers in secret? And why did it seem now that they were keeping something from her after their deaths, when they never would have thought to do so in life.

Why was she having sinister nightmares involving them? And who was the blonde haired girl that kept appearing night after night? Why did tonight feel like the beginning of something major and unavoidable?

She shivered slightly and pulled the covers around her more for comfort than warmth.

She wished she had some way to call her parents, to get them to appear to her so that she could talk to them, ask them about the dreams. But they always appeared to her when they were able to. She was not able to call them, or summon them. The idea that they cold appear to her at any time without notice or warning was a little unfair, but if the alternative was never seeing them again, Isabel could live with the inconvenience.

It was nights like this she wished she had someone else in her life though. Someone that she could not only trust with every secret about herself, the way she trusted her parents, but someone her age, someone that understood all she was going through. Someone she could reach out to and touch when one of her nightmares became too much.

She had never really had many friends. She had gone to school knowing she was different than everybody else and her parents had warned her at a very early age, not to get too close to people. Being immortal and constantly hunted, they tended to move a lot. She had lived all around the world, but they always managed to make their way back to Italy once whoever was hunting them at the time either gave up, or was disposed of.

It was a harsh life, as making friends could possibly endanger them as well. Consequently she had never been truly close to anyone her own age. Her parents were all she had. She was thought of among her classmates as stuck up and snobby. Those who paid any attention to her at all, usually made fun of her or went out of their way to make her miserable.

She told herself it didn't matter, that as long as her parents were there for her she had all she needed, but now even they were gone, save for the all too short visits she received whenever they could manifest themselves.

She had never wished for friends as fervently as she did now. The idea of waking up alone night after night until she found her parents' killer terrified her, and yet it was the only possible solution. She couldn't afford to get close to anybody, not when she had a mission like finding Methos in front of her. What if she got close to somebody and Methos killed them for it? She could never forgive herself if something like that were to happen.

Thinking that way helped to calm her slightly and harden her resolve. It was Methos' fault-all of it. If it weren't for him, her parents would still be alive and she wouldn't feel nearly as lonely as she did now.

She sighed and lay back down in her bed, trying to remember just what it was she had been dreaming, knowing that somehow even though it was just a dream it was of significant importance, but she couldn't seem to make the images in her head clear.

Her window was gone; lost in a sea of melancholy and self pity. She grit her teeth in anger and vowed to keep a notebook by her bed in case of another dream she felt was important so she could write it down immediately.

Sighing, she closed her eyes, trying to shake of the unease and fear that remained with her, long after the images of the dream itself had faded. She made a mental note to ask her parents the next time they appeared to her if the dreams meant something and how she could better harness them to her advantage just before her eyes closed and a troubled sleep overtook her.

Something had changed in the city tonight, and Isabel was certain that for better or worse, she would soon find out what it was.


	25. Date Set

Days turned into weeks and then to a month. Buffy and the others were no closer to finding the mysterious Italian slayer than they were when they got there. Dawn had looked all over her new school but saw nothing in any of the students there that might indicate a slayer.

Xander patrolled every night as did Buffy, and although they encountered many vampires, there wasn't a vampire slayer save for Buffy to be found. There were no articles in the newspaper that Methos could find that said anything about a girl, or freak bursts of strength. Buffy was getting frustrated.

She had put in several calls to Giles and the Council, but they had not been able to help much either. Willow and Kennedy were still in Brazil so she hadn't gotten a chance to talk to them yet, but she hoped they would have something for her when they got back because she was fast running out of options.

Dawn and Richie seemed to have fallen into a holding pattern, walking on eggshells around one another. Neither of them had brought up the date they were supposed to go on, although their friendship remained as strong as ever.

Richie wasn't sure why he had hesitated to remind Dawn of it when they first go there. He told himself it was because of the move. He would let her get settled in first, and not overwhelm her with too much. Let her get used to her new school and her new surroundings and then after a week or so, broach the subject.

But now every time he thought of doing so, he got cold feet. The longer he waited, the more ridiculous he felt about it. What would she think about it now if he brought it up? Would she think him a coward for waiting so long? Or had they ventured too far into 'friend' land for it to go back to the hopeful newness it had been only a short month ago? What if she had forgotten? Should he pretend he had forgotten as well? And if she hadn't forgotten, how would he finally explain what took him so long if she brought it up?

She had started to grasp the Italian language and every now and then somebody would call for her from school and Dawn would speak haltingly to them causing Richie to wonder if her new life was one that even included him. Soon she would have a group of friends that she saw everyday, that she shared inside jokes and experiences. He wondered if he would have any place in it. It was looking unlikely that if he didn't act soon that is exactly what would happen.

He hadn't realized it, but his hesitation had not gone unnoticed. Methos had been watching the dance they had been doing around one another with a kind of detached curiosity that an immortal such as himself had acquired over five thousand years of life. He didn't particularly care what happened either way, to him it was more like an odd 'real life' television show than anything else, and yet he still felt the need to say something.

Richie was getting ready to go pick her up from school when he did. He spoke with a mild indifference, but Richie knew he was more curious than he let on.

"Have you asked her out yet?" He smirked at the kid's surprise in regard to his bluntness. "Thought you two were doing the young lover thing. What happened?"

"Is it any of your business old man?" Richie knew his tone was harsh, but he wasn't used to discussing his problems with Methos. Duncan may be a know-it-all sometimes, but at least he was good at listening and fairly non judgmental. Methos on the other hand got his kicks out of humiliating Richie and his endeavors so he was less than inclined to open up to the older immortal.

"Hey I'm just trying to be helpful." Methos said, his face a picture of wide-eyed innocence that Richie didn't believe for a moment was genuine. "I mean, you were the one who asked for advice from a five thousand year old man. Maybe I've just been saving up for the right time."

"Yea, I'll believe that when I see it." Richie scoffed. "The only thing I've learned from you 'Adam' is that wisdom doesn't necessarily come with age."

"I'm hurt, truly truly hurt." He clutched his shirt and pretended to be mortally wounded at the kid's words. "It's up to you if you don't want to listen. I just think that you should ask her out before somebody else does."

"Yea, well thanks for the advice old man but I think I know what I'm doin'."

"Then why haven't you done it?" He blinked sweetly and Richie had the urge to punch him.

"I'm just waiting for the right time alright?"

"Fine, don't listen to me." He shrugged and headed off to the kitchen to grab a beer. After doing so, he turned back as Richie was about to head out the door. "Just so you know kid, there is no such thing as the right time. If you're not careful, you'll be stuck meeting her dates while she goes out and has a good time."

"Yea?" Richie turned and glared at Methos. "If you're so smart how come you and Buffy are still just friends? She turn you down?"

"At least I asked." Methos said mildly.

Richie scowled and left the house.

He debated it all the way to the school, trying desperately to ignore the nagging feeling that, annoying as he may be, Methos didn't usually lie. On the rare occasions that he did pop up with words of advice, they were usually delivered sarcastically, but no less truthfully in the process. He hated to admit it, but it might just be that there would never be a good time to bring it up, while retaining his sense of dignity. He had come all this way. It would be incredibly foolish of him to let it go past him.

He was still weighing the pros and cons of it in his head when she got into the car. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts he barely even heard what she was saying to him until she waved her hand in front of his face trying to get his attention.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was telling you about my new lab partner in science." She replied, sounding more amused than irritated with him. "He's American too."

Warning bells went off in Richie's head as she spoke, reminding him of Methos' words. At this rate, he wouldn't have to wait till she was fluent in Italian before he had to worry about other guys asking her out. He tried to sound casual as he answered her.

"Oh yea? Why's he in Rome?"

"Dunno," Dawn replied with a shrug. She glanced at him curiously, wondering why he was acting so oddly. "I didn't really get much of a chance to talk to him. He came in at the end of class. He's been assigned to me in almost every class I have. I think it's because of the progress I'm making in learning the language. He's really far behind."

"So you'll be tutoring him?" He tried to keep the knot in his stomach from turning over any further. It was ridiculous to be so jealous and yet he couldn't help it. He didn't want Dawn spending any time with this guy. He couldn't explain it.

"I guess," she replied. "If he stays that is. I get the impression he's not the most scholarly you know?"

"Yea," Richie murmured more to himself than anybody else. "I know the type." He thought briefly of what he had been like at that age. He'd been on the streets for the most part, stealing and ripping off whoever he could. He had gone from foster home to foster home after the death of his adopted mother, but none of them had ever felt like a family. After all he had gone through, school had never really seemed very important by contrast. He had always known he would never be a millionaire, and that the most prominent of jobs he would ever hold would be that of a cashier at McDonald's, so what was the point? His teachers became very frustrated with his attitude, always insisting that he was a smart kid, but lazy. Until he met Duncan MacLeod, he had never really believed that, thinking those sayings were something teachers threw out to every student in order to get them to do their homework.

He knew differently now. MacLeod had showed him that. He had showed him that he was worth teaching and that he could be something, regardless of his level of education or background. He was grateful in many ways to Mac for that chance. Although he still didn't technically have a high school diploma, he knew that he was just as smart, if not more so than his peers and that if he wanted to, he could do whatever he wanted. Being a motorcycle racer was just one of the many dreams he had chased and achieved, however briefly. It taught him that nothing was beyond his grasp and that he had all the time in the world (providing nobody took his head) to do as many other things as he wanted to.

He liked who he was now, liked the knowledge and maturity he possessed. He knew he still looked nineteen, but he no longer felt it. He wondered if this kid that was in Dawn's class was anything like him, smart-alecky, cocky, and scared. He suddenly realized that he didn't much like the kid he had once been and he didn't want Dawn to like him either. That's why he was so jealous.

Dawn was still talking, completely oblivious to the direction his thoughts had taken.

"So I think I'll invite him over one of these nights and try to catch him up on some of the work we're doing. Maybe tomorrow or the day after or something."

"You can't invite him over!" Richie blurted out.

"Why not?" Dawn eyed him curiously and Richie found himself blushing without meaning to. God, why did he always feel like such a child around her?

"Because you're sister is kind of on a mission, right? What if he saw something?" It seemed reasonable, but he kicked himself nonetheless for not telling her what was really on his mind.

"Well no, not when there's something apocalypt-y to be done, but lately there hasn't been anything you know? Until we find this slayer there won't be, so I figured…"

"Weweregonnagooutremember?" He spoke the words in a rush, so fast he wasn't sure she caught them all. Taking a deep breath, he looked at her directly and smiled softly. "On a date?"

Dawn felt her heart melt at the look on his face. They hadn't even started driving yet. The car had been sitting there for the last ten minutes obviously because he had been trying to broach the subject of their date and had been nervous about doing so. She had wondered over the course of the past few weeks if he had indeed forgotten, or if he had just been waiting for the right time to ask. It had never occurred to her that he would be nervous about it. She thought it was adorable.

"I thought…I mean, you didn't seem like you remembered." She shrugged and felt herself blush as well. "You never said anything…"

"Yea, well here's a little dating lesson for you…guys are idiots." He grinned in a way that was totally Richie and smiled. "And I'm their King OK? So what do you say? Tomorrow?"

"Where do you want to go?" She asked, slightly breathless now. His eyes were intent on hers. She didn't think she could break his gaze, even if she wanted to.

"I have no idea." He replied happily. "Just as long as it's me and you OK?"

"OK," she replied. Without thinking, she leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Now let's get him before Buffy thinks I was eaten by vampires."

Richie nodded, unable to keep from grinning like a moron and started the car.


	26. Memories and Dresses

"So what do I want to say here?" Dawn held up two different dresses, glancing back and forth between them and wrinkling her forehead into a frown as she did so. Her sister sat on the bed and watched as she went through her various clothing items, holding each one up for inspection.

Buffy was glad that Dawn had asked her for advice on what to wear for her upcoming date with Richie. Despite her misgivings about it, she was extremely grateful that Dawn had not taken it to heart and cut her out of her life completely. She had claimed it was because Buffy's fashions sense was better than hers, but Buffy knew it was because Dawn finally considered her a friend as well as a sister. It had been a long complicated road, but they were finally beginning to understand one another on a more adult level and Buffy was thankful for that.

Watching Dawn trying on clothes for her date also gave Buffy a sharp pang of nostalgia as she remembered how she, Xander and Willow had done the very same thing once upon a time when Buffy had a date with the tasty and mysterious Owen back when she had first moved to Sunnydale. All she had wanted then was a normal life, and Owen had been a normal guy, perfect at the time for what Buffy thought she wanted. Then he saw what her life was like as a slayer and she knew it just wasn't possible. It was probably the first concrete proof to her that she would never be like normal girls and at the time that had saddened her greatly. Now, it was different. She was older, harder, wiser. She knew that being the slayer was neither something she could ignore or deny and yet Dawn still had that chance. She could be what Buffy never could if she truly wanted to. And yet, here she was, sitting on her sister's bed and helping her pick out her clothing for a date with a man who would never die unless his head was cut off with a sword.

She hated irony some times.

She had wanted to spare Dawn that lesson on growing up and she desperately hoped Richie would not be an experience like Owen. She hoped it would work.

"Hello? Earth to Buffy!" Dawn waved a hand in front of her face and held up the two dresses. "I was asking you a question."

"Sorry Dawnie, I was elsewhere." Buffy apologized with a small smile. She looked at the two dresses. "Well, the first one says shy and cute, while the second one says….never mind what the second one says, you're not wearing that thing out in public until you're at least twenty one!"

Standing up, she snatched the short red dress that Dawn held in her hand and realized it looked disturbingly familiar.

"Wait a minute this is…"

"Yours," Dawn said sheepishly. "I thought maybe I could borrow it? I mean, you have such wonderful taste in clothes…"

"Don't even try it." She shot back. "This dress is way too old for you." She suddenly more than ever understood why Xander had wanted her to wear the parka and ski cap on her date with Owen. The idea of sending her little sister out on a date with a guy who's actual age bordered on thirty was not one that she relished…especially not after seeing the clothes Dawn wanted to pick from.

She wished more than ever that Willow and Xander were here with her. She desperately wanted to go back to that place, that innocent time when she had raided her closet to pick out the perfect outfit to impress a boy she liked. She missed her friends and the companionship they had offered and realized that she and Dawn were really all each other had now. Dawn's friends at school, however nice, could never understand the life they led. She couldn't talk to Methos…not with things the way they were and Xander…well she didn't know if he would ever be their Xander again. It was her and Dawnie now, and Buffy vowed not to let her down.

"Why don't you wear the purple one," she suggested, heading over to her closet and picking out a flirty purple dress that was pretty without being too suggestive. Dawn considered it.

"I don't know…" she looked it over. "It's a little too casual y'know? I want this to be…special."

"I know Dawnie," Buffy said with a sigh. She glanced once more at her red dress and grimaced. "I just don't want it to be too special, you know what I mean?"

"Don't worry Buffy I'm not going to do anything you wouldn't….wait, maybe that's a bad promise for me to make." She grinned at her sister as Buffy glared back in mock annoyance.

"Very funny." She sat down on the bed and stared at her. "You're just so grown up now. I forget sometimes that you're not that annoying little kid that used to follow me out on patrol or listen to my phone calls. You're almost a woman."

"Ewww, now you're starting to sound like mom." Dawn wrinkled her nose at the 'mushy moment' and Buffy smiled.

"That's a compliment." She sighed. "I miss her so much. I wish she could see you. I mean, this is kinda your first date."

"Not true," Dawn protested. "I went out with that guy the year before last at Halloween…"

"Yea, you snuck out and he turned out to be a vampire." Buffy reminded her. "He doesn't really count."

"I guess you're right." Dawn admitted. "But it's not like its some random guy. It's Richie. I know him. You know him. I'm comfortable with him. If this is really a 'first date', shouldn't I be all freaked out and nervous?"

"You've just gone through every article of clothing you own for tomorrow." Buffy said wryly. Dawn blushed.

"Yea, but that's just cause I want him to think I'm pretty." She sighed and sat down on the bed. "I'm not nervous about HIM. At least, I don't think I am."

"It's OK to be nervous." Buffy assured her. "Just because you two make really good friends, doesn't mean the transition to dating will be easy. It's a big step. It's not one to make lightly."

"That why you've been avoiding Adam ever since he kissed you at Joe's?" Dawn asked her. Buffy looked away, not wanting to discuss it.

"Hey, let's keep this about your date OK? My life is complicated."

"I'm going out with a guy who lives forever tomorrow." Dawn shot back. "I think our complication levels are about equal here. And how come we can talk about my love life, but I can't bring up yours?"

"Because I don't have one." Buffy said matter-of-factly. Secretly she enjoyed that Dawn felt comfortable talking to her about this, but right now she didn't want to deal with the complicated, but delicious package that was Methos. "Adam and I are just friends."

"He kissed you Buffy, I saw it." Dawn persisted. "And you kissed him back. Why won't you give him a chance?"

"I…" she sighed, knowing that getting out of the conversation with quite dignity was officially out of the question. "I care about him, I just…I don't know if it's enough."

"If what's enough?" She fixed her gaze on her sister, her eyes awash with innocent confusion. Buffy longed for that simplicity. "I mean, what's so hard about it? He's cute…he's got an accent which lets face it is totally yummy. He's into you. Where's the problem?"

"I…" She trailed off, unsure of how to explain it. "I just don't know if I can be the person he wants me to be. I've failed so many times Dawn."

"Is this about Spike?"

Buffy was shocked at her sister's perceptiveness, but didn't answer right away. She didn't have to. Her sister got it.

"Look Buff…I know you cared about Spike. He knew it too."

"Not the way he wanted me to." Buffy said, swallowing the lump in her throat that now threatened itself. "Not the way I should have. I could have told him I cared about him at any time, but I…I was scared. Scared of so much and then he died and I…I tried to tell him….I tried to love him and he didn't believe me. I couldn't even give him that when he died."

"Did you love him?" Dawn asked. It was a simple question, but the answer couldn't have been more complicated.

"I think so." She whispered sadly. "But not the way he wanted. Not the way I loved Angel. What happens if I can't give that to Adam? If he never really believes that I…"

"You can't live on what-if's." Dawn said firmly. "You'll always miss out. Besides, of all the guys you've known…I think Adam really understands you. Give him a chance. Maybe he'll surprise you."

"Can we change the subject here?" Buffy asked, not wanting to think about Methos or his feelings for her at the moment. "Why don't you go with the pink dress?"

"The one you said looks shy and cute?" Dawn picked it up and looked it over once more. "You don't think it's a little too innocent?"

"I don't think anything is too innocent." Buffy joked. "But seriously, Richie will like it. You don't have to worry about him thinking you're pretty Dawn. He asked you out cause he likes you…which means he thinks you're pretty. The guy came to Italy just to be near you. You could wear a burlap sack and he'd still want to go out with you."

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" Dawn joked. "If I went all covered up in a burlap sack."

"Would I ever." Buffy said with a laugh. "But I know that's not gonna happen. The pink one. Trust me on this."

"Thanks Buffy," Dawn said with a warm smile. "Seriously. I really appreciate it."

"Hey no worries. While you're out on a date tomorrow, I will be wandering around grave yards looking for a slayer that probably doesn't even know what she is. One of us should be having a good time."

"Still getting nowhere huh?" Dawn's tone was sympathetic.

"I don't know what to do." Buffy admitted. "Willow's been trying to dig up something more on this girl, but with only her name to go on…"

"You'll find her." Dawn said with perfect confidence. "Slayers you're good at…men on the other hand…"

"No more!" Buffy insisted. "C'mon, let's go see if we can coax Xander into having dinner with us. He could use the company."

"OK, but this isn't over." Dawn warned. Buffy sighed as they left the room, knowing her sister's words were truer than she thought. Eventually she would have to deal with her issues. Tonight however, was not that night.


	27. A Night of Culture

"This is OK with you right?" Richie's voice was unsure and nervous. Dawn enjoyed the way he could go from looking like a mature older guy to the nervous nineteen year old that he outwardly appeared to be at the blink of an eye. She liked knowing that she had that power over him, that she could make him nervous enough to revert to that level.

She looked around the Vatican museum in awe, then gave Richie a reassuring smile.

"I love this stuff Richie." She assured him. Until everything had gotten so crazy the year she found out she was the key she had indeed loved school especially history. Buffy had always hated it, but Dawn had found great solace in the stories and people from the distant past. It fascinated her. She was glad that Richie had thought to take them here.

"Mac is always saying I should be more cultured." Richie was saying ruefully. "He's always at me to go to the museums and stuff in Paris, but I just never got around to it. I guess I figured that I had all the time in the world to see that stuff so I never bothered."

"I've never even been out of California and now I've seen Paris AND Rome!" Dawn couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. "Sometimes it seems like a dream, you know? Like this is happening to someone else and not to me. I mean, I'm upset that Sunnydale is gone and that Spike and Anya didn't make it, but part of me is so grateful to be here that…does that make me a horrible person? The fact that I don't feel worse I mean?"

"No, it makes you healthy." Richie replied. "Believe me Dawn, if you spent all your time mourning what you lost you'd be…"

"Xander." She interrupted with a sad sigh. "It's like he's not even here."

"Exactly." Richie said. "I hate to point him out as a symbol of unhealthiness, but…"

"I know." Dawn told him with a small smile. "Buffy says there's nothing more we can do."

"She's right." Richie said simply.

"I used to have the biggest crush on him you know." Dawn admitted with a wistful smile. It had all seemed so easy then. A crush was a very simple thing. She'd watch Buffy laugh and joke with Xander and picture him looking at her the way he looked at Buffy. She'd write Dawn+Xanderlove, or Dawn & Xander 4Ever on her notebooks and in her diary and plan her wedding, complete with the song they would both have for their first dance. She'd imagine what it would be like to have her dad give her away to Xander. He was her first real crush.

But then it all went wrong. Her dad stopped calling them, and eventually ran off to Spain with his secretary in what Buffy called a spectacular mid-life crisis. Angel left, causing Dawn to wonder if true love was really all it was cracked up to be if it couldn't even keep the two of them together. Her mom got sick and Dawn found out she wasn't the normal human she had always thought herself to be, but a magical key whose power seemed to lie only in destruction. It had all fallen apart and the simple thought of a crush and a wedding became something that only little girls were allowed to dream of.

Dawn had already seen too much to ever think that way again. Xander became more of an older brother and the dream wedding became a very distant illusion. If she wasn't even human, how could she get married? Her dad was gone, unable to be located when they needed him most. And then her mom died, ripping away the last vestige of a normal family life she ever had. All she had of a family was Buffy, but then she was gone too.

After she came back things weren't the same. Dawn learned to rely on herself, to get up in the morning and face the day knowing that she couldn't afford to think about such trivial things as boys, a dream wedding or what song she would have for the first dance. It was always one thing after another. Buffy coming back from the dead, Willow going evil, Xander leaving Anya, the world almost ending. It never seemed to stop. And in the midst of it all, Buffy's friends ceased to be just Buffy's friends. They became Dawn's new family.

She could never look at Xander and see a guy again. Now, whenever she looked at him she saw an older brother. To think of him that way was even more painful as she watched him self destruct.

She looked back at Richie who was contemplating her statement silently.

"Why?" He finally said. She realized he was asking why she had a crush on Xander. She thought about it for a moment before answering.

"I have a thing for older guys." She joked. Adding a note of seriousness, she continued, "because he was something special. An ordinary guy, but one who fought demons right alongside Buffy, even without any powers or abilities. I guess I thought that was pretty romantic. I don't know if that makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Richie assured her. "When I first met Duncan and Tessa, I had a little crush on her as well. I mean I idolized Duncan, thought he was just the greatest human being I had ever met. He fought with a sword and seemed cooler than cool y'know? I wanted to be just like him. And here was this beautiful woman, who was strong and loyal, and fierce as hell if you knew her and I wanted that. I wanted to know that someday I would find a woman who would stay by me no matter what trouble I was in. Until I met the two of them, I had never had that."

"Duncan's your hero." Dawn said softly.

"More like a mentor." Richie corrected. "I mean, before I was immortal, I woulda said yea, but now…well I've seen too much of what it is to be immortal to call what we do heroic. Mac is a good guy, with strong morals, but he's not perfect. Nobody is. Not even her. I miss Tessa so much sometimes….but every time I do, I think of how much Mac loved her and realize that he misses her ten times more."

"Buffy said she died." Dawn spoke quietly, unsure of whether Richie wanted to talk about it any further. The Vatican was beautiful to behold, but Dawn was suddenly too caught up in the conversation she was having with Richie to really pay significant attention.

"Yea, she did." Riche told her sadly. "Pretty damn senselessly too. You never know how fragile life is till something like that happens. I mean, I may be immortal, but all it will take is someone better than me and I'm a goner too y'know? I'm supposed to live forever, but who knows if I'll even make it to a hundred?"

"You will." Dawn said, ignoring the knot that tightened in her stomach at the thought of something happening to Richie. "Buffy says Mac is one of the best teacher's out there."

"Yea, he is." Richie replied. "But a good teacher can only go so far. I still don't know if I'm a good enough student."

He shook his head as if to clear the thought process from his mind. "But enough of that. I grew out of my crush on Tessa, and I learned that senseless killings can happen to anyone. I think that's called growing up. What about you? What happened to end your crush on Xander?"

"I never really thought about it." Dawn admitted. "I guess when Buffy died, Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara became sort of like my parents…they all took care of me. It's hard to see somebody that way after something like that."

"Well that's a shame." Richie said with mock seriousness. "A girl your age should have a guy in her life that she likes as more than a friend."

"What makes you think I don't?" Dawn teased back, enjoying the game they seemed to be playing with one another. His eyebrow went up in surprise.

"Oh? So you do have a crush on someone?"

"Maybe," she said coyly.

"What does he look like? I'll have to check him out to make sure he's good enough for you." He took a step closer to her, their faces only inches apart and felt his heart speed up at their closeness.

"Well," there was a slight catch in her breath as her eyes met his. "He's tall, and a few years older than me. He has reddish blonde hair, an amazing smile and I think he'd probably look really good without a shirt on." She blushed at the last statement, but continued. "He's smart, and really funny and brave. He's a good friend and a really good guy."

"Damn," Richie said huskily. "He's gonna be hard to compete with."

"Maybe you should find someone then." Dawn countered.

"I have." He said simply. He smiled. "She's a good friend of mine's younger sister. She's exciting, smart, brave, and incredibly fun to be around. Oh and did I mention gorgeous? There's this one outfit she has-a pink dress that literally made me speechless when I saw her wear it. She makes me want to…you make me want to…"

"What?" Dawn asked, abandoning the charade entirely and feeling her heart rate increase tenfold. They were so close, all he had to do was move forward just a little bit and…

"Are you going to kiss me at some point Richie?" She finally whispered. "Or are we just going to stand here in the middle of the Vatican museum looking like idiots?"

He answered her question by closing the gap between them in a soft, tentative kiss that made all of Dawn's nerve endings come alive with sensation. She gasped softly as he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around her waste and pulling her against his chest. His lips were incredibly gentle. Dawn felt as if she could kiss them forever, so wonderful was the feeling of them against hers.

She reached up and ran her hands through his close cropped hair, trailing her fingers lightly down the back of his neck and loving the feeling that accompanied it. He shivered slightly at her touch and the kiss became even deeper, his tongue touching hers and exploring her mouth with a languid curiousness that excited her greatly. She had never felt like this before, so anxious and yet so completely content. She wanted to pull him closer, to deepen his kiss to the point of no return and yet she was perfectly happy not to, to just allow him to do what he was doing and forget the rest of the world existed.

Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled away from her, his face flushed with emotion.

"I uh…don't think this place is the best place to do this." He finally said, his breathing ragged. Dawn instantly went red with embarrassment when she realized where they were.

"I didn't think…I mean, I knew you liked me enough to ask me out, I just didn't think it was that much to…I just didn't expect anything like that." She sounded like an idiot and looked away, sure that Richie would realize how woefully inexperienced she was in this sort of thing and call it all off. Instead, he touched her chin gently and turned her back to meet his gaze.

"I didn't plan to kiss you here Dawn." He said honestly. "But don't for one second think I never wanted to kiss you. It's all I've been thinking about since I met you."

"Really?" She fought the urge to ask why. "I didn't realize…"

"I hope it wasn't a disappointment." He continued. "I mean, I hope you wanted to kiss me back."

"Are you kidding?" She giggled nervously and then stepped back. "I mean, yea. I wanted to. A lot."

"You do look beautiful tonight, you know that right?"

"Buffy picked the dress out." She told him, feeling it was her duty to warn him that her fashion sense was not as good as he might think. Best to warn him now.

"You want to get out of here? We could spend the rest of the night walking around and talking….or kissing. There could be more kissing."

"I would love that." She replied, then blushing added, "the talking I mean. And the kissing. Both. Err, yea, let's get out of here."

"I knew a night of culture was the way to go." He joked as they headed for the exit.


	28. Weekly Conference Call

Author's Note: This is for Sheena, who has threatened my life if I don't post something soon ;) Also, thanks to everyone for all the wonderful reviews and encouragement!

* * *

Buffy was able to forget about the fact that she had gotten nowhere trying to find the slayer, and that things were strained between her and Methos after Dawn returned from her date with Richie. They had come back before curfew, mainly because Richie was afraid Buffy would hurt him if they didn't and Dawn had floated through the next few weeks afterward.

Buffy still had her misgivings, but seeing her sister so happy was hard to ignore. The demons that had haunted her ever since she found out she was the key seemed to be fading from her eyes. Sunnydale, the destruction, the first evil….it was all still there, but so was the happiness over her new relationship with Richie. She seemed rejuvenated. And Dawn's rejuvenation was helping her too. It made her think that for once, despite all the evil that surrounded them there was some good as well.

It helped her to see that relationships were not always a lost cause…that things could work out. It gave her hope. Even if she was unable to make things work with someone, her sister had clearly not inherited her dysfunction. To know that Dawn still had that chance made Buffy incredibly grateful.

Even Methos noticed the change in her mood., although the awkwardness and tension remained.

She had been making frequent progress reports to Willow and Kennedy who were still in Brazil, looking for the ancient sect of witches. Willow had been desperately trying to find some other information about the slayer Buffy was looking for, but her previous breakthrough against the First had not been without side effects. Her ability to connect to the other slayers around the world was severely hindered. She was getting extremely violent headaches with startling frequency. Kennedy was worried about her, so she insisted on a weakly conference call and begged Willow to tell Buffy what was happening.

Willow, not wanting to add to the slayer's worries had not said anything, but it was getting a little too painful to keep quiet much longer.

She was still working up the nerve to tell Buffy her worries when they finally managed to get a line through to the new Watcher's Council in England for their latest weakly conference call.

"We all here?" Buffy was aware at the impatience in her voice, but she was getting tired of patrolling every night and coming up with nothing. She could hear Giles clearing his throat.

"We're here Buffy." Willow said. She sounded nervous. "But it's not all good news."

"Still haven't found those witches?" She let her shoulders slump slightly and Dawn gave her a curious look from the living room where she had been watching the conversation.

"Kennedy and I are looking Buffy, we are." Willow assured her. "But it's been…harder since I tapped through the first's defences."

"Harder…" Buffy heard the hesitation in her friend's voice and seized on it. "How do you mean?"

"Is something wrong Willow?" Giles' tone held deep concern and that worried Buffy even further.

"It's nothing, it's…" she trailed off and then let out a soft yelp as Kennedy poked her sharply in the ribs, urging her to tell the others of her problems. "OK, OK! Look, I've been having some headaches ever since the night I managed to tap into the Italian slayer, that's all. I'm sure they'll go away soon."

"Willow this is serious." Giles said softly. "What you're experiencing is magickal residue from a highly dangerous source. Something in the first's essence was exchanged with yours when you broke through its defences. It could be harming you slowly with those headaches."

"It's not that bad, Giles." She insisted.

"Will, if Giles is right…"

"Do you want me to come back?" Willow asked, sounding suddenly defeated. "Because if we do, I don't know if we'll get another chance. We're almost there."

"Not yet Willow." Giles told her. "But if it gets worse, you let me know post haste. I don't want anything happening to you."

"I promise." She told Giles. "What about you? Anything over there?"

"The girls are coming along brilliantly." He promised. "Faith makes a remarkable teacher. They should be ready for field work very soon."

"What are you saying?" Buffy asked cautiously.

"I'm saying that should you require any backup…"

"No." Buffy cut him off before he could finish.

"Buffy, this is what you did the spell for." Giles told her patiently. "You may need their help if you can't find the slayer in time and the first manages to achieve whatever it's trying to do."

"I won't put them into something like this." Buffy said firmly. "What I did, I did so they could be free. Not so they could get killed, or…" she trailed off thinking suddenly of Xander who had lost an eye because of her, Anya who was now dead and Spike who had died so they all might live. Never again. She wouldn't do it.

"Buffy they're slayers." Willow said gently. "It's kinda what they do."

"I know that Will. I know that more than any of you. I just don't think they could possibly be ready for this." She shook her head, though they couldn't see it. "They don't go in the field like this until I say."

"Alright," Giles said with a sigh. "But you let me know if you need anything, no matter how small."

"I will." She promised.

"What about Dawnie and Xander? How is everything there?" Having nothing new to add on the apocalypse front, Willow switched to more personal matters. The deep sigh on the other end told her that things were not all well there either.

"Dawn's fine." Buffy told them guardedly. An almost inaudible click could be heard on the phone line, so softly that Buffy thought she might have imagined it.

"And Xander?" Willow questioned softly.

"Africa for all I know." Buffy replied wryly. The phone click could be heard once more accompanied by Giles telling Andrew to cease his infernal eavesdropping and do something useful for once. She ignored it, and continued. "I haven't seen him lately…sometimes he's gone for days Will. I don't know how to talk to him anymore."

"Keep at him Buffy." Willow encouraged. "As soon as this is over, I'm coming to you guys OK?"

"Alright Will." Buffy said with a sad smile. She feared that it was already too late for him, but didn't want to say so out loud.

"We'll talk again in one week." Giles said firmly. It was clear the conversation was over.

"Later," Buffy said before hanging up the phone. She turned to Dawn who questioned her wordlessly and shook her head. She passed by her and grabbed her jacket and stake, intending to go out yet again looking for the slayer. Regardless of their success finding her thus far, they had to try.

She gave Dawn a sad look and said good night before heading out into the night alone.


	29. Vampire Attack

There was someone behind her. Isabel could feel it somehow before she even heard the footsteps as they approached. Something within her warned her that it was a dangerous presence…malevolent…predatory. She wasn't sure how, or why, but she knew that whoever it was, was strong. Possibly as strong as her. Her pulse raced with anticipation as the footfalls got progressively louder.

She wondered if it could possibly be Methos behind her. Could he have found her, before she found him? But no, she dismissed that notion almost immediately. She didn't know how, but she had the feeling that whatever it was behind her was not immortal-was something far different and far more deadly. Whatever was behind her did not kill for sport, or for the prize. It killed for pleasure, for sustenance, for fun. And it was following her to do just that.

She should have been frightened. Even with her new powers and her new strength this presence was entirely new. Her parents hadn't warned her. She should not feel so confident, and yet somehow she knew she could fight it. She knew she had to, felt like she was born to.

In her blood.

The creature was almost behind her. It was almost time for her to turn on it and strike, to show it that she would not be easy prey.

Before she could however another shadow came out of the night and slammed straight into the figure behind her, shoving it to the ground.

Isabel leapt back, startled and turned to see the two figures rolling around on the pavement fighting one another viciously. She moved closer to try to see the attacker's face, but the form that had interceded on her behalf reached out with the only arm he could spare and motioned for her to stay clear.

"Get back, I'll handle this!" He growled in between punches that were being traded. He spoke English with no trace of an Italian accent anywhere. _American, _Isabel thought. _What the hell is he doing here? _It was then that Isabel got a clear look at her would-be attacker as the other man fought it. It looked human at first glance, but that was obviously not the case. His face was contorted into an ugly visage of bumps, ridges and fangs. She should have been horrified at the sight, but something inside her told her it was natural. That she should be the one to see this; should be the one to fight it.

That's when she got a better look at the young man who was currently doing so. He wasn't as strong as the creature. The blows he was receiving were doing more damage to him than they would have to her, and yet he fought with a ferocity that startled even her. She couldn't see his face, but somehow she knew that he would not let up until he had defeated this thing-whatever it was.

But it might kill him in the process. Isabel couldn't let that happen. It had been following her. She moved in to try and get the guy off of the creature, but before she could do anything she watched in fascination as he ripped a long sharp piece of wood out of his coat, and plunged it through the creature's heart.

It turned into dust, right before her eyes and the young man sat up, and brushed himself off as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"What…" she paused, trying to process everything she had just seen and wondering briefly why she wasn't screaming in terror. "What was that?"

The young man looked up at her and she did a double take. He was a few years older than her, but not by much. His left eye was covered with a pirate's eye patch that Isabel suspected was not a fashion statement and the look in his right eye told her it was not a good idea to ask. He wasn't as strong as she was, and yet she felt nervous in his presence…unsure. He was unpredictable. Her gut told her that right off the bat.

"Don't worry about it." He told her gruffly. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. She blushed, realizing too late that she had been staring at his eye patch while the thoughts raced through her mind. "Just go home. You're safe."

"Me?" She couldn't help but exclaim. "I'm safe? What about you? That thing could have killed you! What the hell was that?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He stood up, and picked up the long wooden shard, putting it back in his coat. He still refused to look at her. He turned to leave, and she grabbed his hand to stop him. She was not going to let this guy just disappear. Not without some answers.

"You'd be surprised at what I'd believe." She replied firmly. He finally looked at her and she was surprised to see a sadness within that one eye that made her want to comfort him, rather than question him. She softened her tone a bit, hoping it might make him more willing to confide in her. "Please, what was that?"

"A vampire." The young man said with a reluctant sigh. He gave her a look that told her that he expected her to deny it, to discount what he said right off the bat. But she couldn't. Vampires weren't supposed to exist, and yet she believed. Her parents had been immortal. Immortality wasn't supposed to be real and yet she had seen it first hand. They had never mentioned vampires to her, but that didn't mean they couldn't exist. The fangs, the facial contortions, the strength…it all made perfect sense. So why could she feel them coming? And why did this feel almost like a second nature to her? To sense them, to want to fight them. A part of her felt almost cheated that the man in front of her had taken that opportunity away.

"OK, fine a vampire." She repeated. "Why were you here?"

"Look, you don't have to thank me," he almost mumbled. He was clearly very uncomfortable now and more than slightly puzzled as to why she believed him with such readiness. "Let's just call it even and go our separate ways."

"Call it even?" She echoed in disbelief. "Thank you! You could have been killed! Why would you take on a vampire? Are you crazy?"

"What about you?" He shot back. "You don't seem too surprised that they exist! Why the hell would anybody walk through a darkened street all alone at night in a city that has a…" he trailed off, clearly intending to say something, then deciding against it. "I knew what it was and how to fight it. You would have been the one to get killed."

"I knew it was behind me." She admitted to him. "I was ready to fight him. You on other hand probably don't even have any depth perception. People in glass houses shouldn't call others reckless."

"Well this is the most fun I've ever had saving somebody's life." He muttered. "I'm not sure which is worse, the ones who blubber their thank you's in Italian till I want to scream or you-a girl who doesn't even realize how close she came to dying chastising ME for being too reckless."

"I could have handled him." She said, chin up, almost certain that what she was saying was the truth. The guy in front of her raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"You the one we're looking for then? A chosen one?"

She found it odd that he would word something like that in such a way. She didn't know what he was talking about, but 'chosen one' didn't strike her as a phrase that should be used in the plural. In either case, she was not about to tell him of her freakish strength or its source. He might believe in vampires, but that didn't mean he would necessarily buy the concept of immortality and she certainly didn't need this guy thinking she was some kind of monster herself.

Slowly, she shook her head.

"I'm not a freak or anything. I'm normal."

"Then you couldn't have taken him. Trust me." He turned to leave, obviously feeling the conversation was done with, but she wasn't through just yet.

"Why could you?" She asked before he could go. "I mean, you don't look like you're anything other than human. You're obviously not a vampire…he was stronger than you. I could tell. Why fight him? That seems pretty suicidal to me."

"I know about them. I know how to kill them." He shrugged, clearly at a loss to explain himself. "Somebody has to."

"And that somebody is you?" She was intrigued now and no longer annoyed. This guy appeared to be something straight out of an American action movie. The eye patch, the surly demeanor, the stake… It all made her wonder who he was and what his story could possibly be. What on earth could he have lost to make him risk his life like that?

"Yea, well why not?" He looked away, his shoulders dropping in defeat. "Beats the hell out of watching reality TV in Italian. Hey…why is it you speak English anyway?"

"Expensive private school." She replied stiffly, not wanting to be reminded of her parents right now. "And I'm not the one out of place here. You're American right?"

"How'd you know?" He asked.

"Well the accent for one," she pointed out. "And the fact that you're arrogant enough to wonder why I speak English…as if only you guys have the right."

"Alright, I asked for that." He admitted, throwing up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You caught me off guard OK? I'm not exactly used to the people I save knowing what I'm saying to them. Makes a guy testy."

"Is it better that way then?" She asked, wondering why he seemed so unwilling to talk to her, especially since only moments ago he had been willing to take on a vampire and risk his life. "Easier to justify walking away when they don't understand what you're saying?"

"I don't know what you're problem is!" The guy snapped. "I mean, I saved your life. Why does it matter so much if I don't stop to chat?"

"Why?" She glared right back at him, daring him to challenge her. He was so much like her it was frightening. "Maybe I just get curious when one-eyed Americans follow me, kill a creature that isn't supposed to exist, then don't want to take any credit for it! What's your angle? What do you get out of it, if you don't want to be thanked or rewarded for risking your life? And don't say you just want to do good, cause I can see right here and now that that isn't the reason you do this."

"It used to be." He said quietly, so quietly that Isabel wasn't even sure she heard it. He looked away and his shoulder's slumped as if some heavy burden had just descended on him after a momentary reprieve. Finally, he looked back up at her. "I wasn't following you, I was following the vamp. I…I just want to kill them, that's all. I don't want to talk, or make friends, or save the world. I just want to…"

"Kill," she finished softly. She could see her desire to find and destroy Methos mirrored in the young man's one good eye. It wasn't Methos he was after specifically, but the core desire was the same. He was trying to fill up a part of himself that was now empty…a part that someone or something had taken from him. She could understand that…sympathize with it. "I get it. I'm sorry I bothered you. Thanks for what you did."

She turned to leave, not wanting to bother her rescuer any further. She had been lucky tonight, but the next time might not turn out that way. She would have to do her research on vampires, possibly ask her parents if they appeared to her why they hadn't warned her of the threat to begin with.

She had gotten halfway down the street when she heard the young man call after her.

"Wait!"

She stopped and turned as he ran to catch up.

"Look, I'm sorry I was so jerktastic back there." He quirked his mouth upward into what she could only assume was an attempt to smile. "I haven't exactly been Mr. Social since my friends and I moved here. I'm sorry."

"What does…jerktastic mean?" She asked, not understanding that particular piece of English. He laughed.

"It's slang for how rude I was." He replied. "My name is Xander Harris."

"Isabel DeLuca," she told him slightly reluctantly. It had been a long time since she had told anybody but a captive immortal her name. "Are you a…chosen one then?"

"A what?" He sounded slightly shocked by her question.

"You asked me if I was one of those when I told you I could have handled the vampire. You said 'the one we're looking for' and then 'chosen one'. What does that mean? Are you one of them?"

"No, I lack some of the major necessities for being a chosen one." Xander replied somewhat wryly. "I just thought…well you seemed like you wanted to fight that thing. Made me wonder. But if you're normal…not anything…out of the ordinary then don't worry about it. It's my problem."

"You like to do things on your own then," she surmised. He shrugged.

"I used to have people with me." He admitted sadly. "I kind of…drove them away. Anyway, it's better this way. I don't fight for the same reasons I used to."

"You fight to kill now." She reiterated his words from before and he nodded.

"Somehow I get the feeling you understand that…even if you are normal."

"You'd be surprised what I understand." She said, her tone suddenly hard and angry. "You don't have to be some supernatural demon fighter to have bad things happen to you. Believe me, vengeance is something anybody can understand if they have enough reason to."

"Do you?" He looked at her curiously, and she shrank back from the scrutiny. She might understand, even identify with him, but she sure as hell wasn't ready to share her deepest darkest secrets with a total stranger…even one who did just save her life. She liked the idea of him believing she was normal. It made her think that maybe someday she could be. That this would one day all just be a bad dream.

"This isn't about me." She told him softly, but firmly. "Look, I gotta get back home. Will I…am I going to see you again?"

"I don't know…I'm usually out here looking for trouble…the kind that could get people killed." His words did not match the look in his eye. He wanted to see her again, she could tell…but he was afraid. Of what, she couldn't be sure. She stepped closer to him and bit her lip.

"Look, if you want to talk again, here's my phone number." She wrote it down and handed it to him before he could protest. "I owe you at least that for what you did for me."

He should have said that she didn't owe him anything…and if this were just one year ago, he might have. But the idea of having someone non personal and available to talk to was one he did not want to give up. She didn't know the others, didn't know him. She didn't have to see what he had become…and she seemed to accept what he was. Maybe one of these nights he would take her up on that offer. He tucked the phone number into his pocket and nodded.

"See you later." Was all he could think to say. She nodded back and headed off into the night. He sighed and decided it was time to go home.


	30. Motherly Advice

"You have to listen to me Isabel, there isn't much time." Her mother's tone was gentle, but there was an iron edge to it that she had never heard while Isabel had been alive…not even in her angriest of periods. It was subtle, you'd almost miss it if you didn't know what they were talking about…but Isabel heard it. She heard it and shivered. For the first time since her parents had returned to her, she found herself wishing that she was alone and free of their visits.

It seemed that lately all they did was argue. At first they had been 'discussions'…friendly advice from her mother and father about how to defeat Methos. Both had appeared 'concerned'. They didn't think that she had what it took to beat the world's oldest man and they had been worried. Isabel could understand that. Even she doubted her ability to take him on when she trained.

But she wanted to do it fairly. So she had turned down her parents' offers for more power every time they had offered it. At first they seemed to accept that, but lately the 'discussions' had started to become out right arguments and Isabel was starting to wonder who's quest it actually was. It wasn't as if she didn't want revenge for what Methos had done to her family-far from it. But the passion that her parents seemed to have for their daughter killing this immortal was far greater than she had ever seen either in herself, or her parents when they had been alive. They had never been overly fond of the game, taking heads whenever they were challenged, or felt that a fight was unavoidable. She even knew that occasionally they sought battles for more personal reasons, but overall she knew they did not recklessly search for death.

Now that they were dead, perhaps the difference was no longer clear to them. It was becoming less and less clear to Isabel with every passing day. She hadn't been able to question any immortals for information lately at all. It was partly because there didn't seem to be any immortals left, and the ones she had 'questioned' kept vehemently insisting Methos was a myth. Most immortals that used to live in or visit Rome seemed to have vacated the city. It was as if something had moved in to take its place-something far darker and far more sinister that chased them away.

Isabel could feel it in her bones and see it in her dreams, though she could never quite remember it when she awoke. Her mother and father would dismiss her claims, saying that the search for Methos was getting to her. They wanted her to find him and dispose of him quickly and they wanted her to have the strength and skill to do so without effort.

All Isabel wanted was to be normal again. Well, as close to normal as she ever had been.

The young man she had met a few nights back had seen that she wasn't and she desperately wanted to change that. She had told him she was normal-not a freak and he seemed to believe it. Deep down however, Isabel knew that she couldn't lie to herself forever. She wasn't normal. She was a freak, but she'd be damned if she let it get any more out of control than it already was.

She fixed her mother with a determined stare and shook her head.

"I don't want it. You know that."

"This isn't about what you want." Her mother replied, almost coldly. "It's about your safety. Methos will find out about you soon and when he does, he will be hunting for you, not the other way around…if he isn't already. If he catches you off guard, he WILL defeat you. I cannot protect you from that."

"I've heard this already." Isabel said stubbornly. "You know my answer."

"Damn it, why won't you listen to me?" Her mother reached out to touch her, but it was without result. Isabel could feel her frustration in that respect and she shared it. Perhaps things would not be so strained if she could simply fold into her mother's arms and allow herself to pretend the rest of the world didn't exist. But she couldn't. That ability had been taken away from her by Methos.

"I love you mom." She told her softly. "But I don't want to be any more of a freak than I already am."

"I never thought you could be so selfish." Her mother said with a sad shake of her head. "This is about more than just you. Can't you feel the change here? There's great evil…he has brought it with him and you are the only one who can fight it. I know it doesn't feel like it, but this happened to us for a reason. You are meant for far more than this simplistic life, surely you know that. You're special, you're…"

"Chosen?" The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it and her mother's form suddenly froze in shock.

"Where did you hear that?" She breathed. She looked almost terrified and that sent a small shiver down Isabel's back. Up until now, she had been confident enough in herself to deny her parent's offers of strength, but the way her mother looked at her now almost made her give in right then and there. What could have her so frightened?

"I…someone I met," she finally told her. "A couple of weeks ago. He was…well he fought this thing that came up behind me and when I told him to back off, he said something about a chosen one."

"Then it's already begun." Her mother said, turning from her as if unable to look at her. "What else did he say about the chosen one?"

"Nothing." Isabel said with a shrug. "I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't tell him about my powers. I didn't want him to know…even though he fought that thing I just…"

"What thing?" Her mother interrupted. Her eyes glittered strangely and Isabel drew back involuntarily.

"He said it was a…a vampire." She admitted sheepishly. She still wasn't entirely sure she believed it, especially having a couple of weeks to think back on it. She hadn't seen or heard from the young man named Xander and she was beginning to wonder if the entire thing had been a dream.

"A vampire." Her mother nodded as if she had been expecting this all along. "You must let me perform the ritual Isabel…before it's too late."

"You mean you knew about this?" She didn't mean for her tone to sound to accusatory, but the fact that her mother had hidden the existence of vampires from her was hard not to be angry about. "Vampires mom! That thing could have taken me completely by surprise!"

"I didn't think he would have been able to bring them here yet." She replied, almost to herself. "I didn't think that he was that powerful yet."

"He?" She echoed. "You mean Methos?" Her mother simply nodded.

"He has the ability to summon…certain creatures that should not be messed with. He is getting impatient. He knows you are a threat…that's why it was following you. You need to let me help you. There is no time to lose."

"I…" She trailed off and looked around, desperately wanting a way out. "I have to think about this. You have no idea why I don't want this. Please…I'll do anything…"

"Next time you might not be so lucky." She pointed out. "Who was this young man anyway?"

"Nobody really." Isabel replied. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't want to give her mother Xander's name just yet. "Just some guy who happened to be in the right place at the right time and knew what to do. I didn't get much of a chance to talk to him. He disappeared almost right away."

"He's evil Isabel." Her mother said gently. "More evil than you know. I…your father and I need to know you'll be OK."

"Just…" she turned away, unable to look at her mother's worried face too much longer. "Just go mom. I'll think about it…I will. But for now…please, just leave me alone."

"I love you sweetie." She heard her say sadly before disappearing and leaving Isabel to her thoughts. She sat down dejectedly on the couch and tried her level best to think about other things-things that had nothing to do with Methos or her mission. Oddly enough, she found her mind drifting to Xander and wondering what it was he was doing right now.


	31. Need A Hand?

The demonic activity was getting much much worse. Buffy could see it happening by the day. With the Sunnydale Hellmouth gone, demons were coming to Rome in droves. It was clear this was the new 'badness central' and every demon in Europe seemed to want a piece of it.

When she started to patrol at first, she would only encounter one or two random vampires as she did so and maybe a demon on the odd night. Now, it was almost a given that she would fight at least three or four vamps and a few demons as well. She was beginning to wonder if it wasn't necessarily the Hellmouth that attracted demonic activity, but rather the presence of a slayer that did so.

If that were the case, she should have been able to locate the errant slayer by now, but that had not happened and Buffy was beginning to wonder if Willow's vision had been a mislead entirely. The demonic activity was increasing day by day in Rome, but there wasn't a slayer it seemed-other than herself-in sight.

It was getting to be too much for her to handle alone, though she was loathe to admit that to anyone. Giles had offered to send backup to her multiple times, but she kept refusing. It was becoming clearer to her by the day that she could not involve the new slayers in this. Not when it was her fault that it was even happening to begin with.

She shook the thoughts from her head and forced herself to focus on the situation at hand. She had only been patrolling already for about half an hour, but had yet to encounter anything, which she considered fundamentally odd.

She decided to do another run of a near by cemetery as that tended to be where demons and more particularly vamps tended to congregate. She followed her hunch to the grave yard and hit pay dirt when she found herself surrounded by about six demons, two of which she had never encountered before-a feat which was rare in and of itself.

She took stock of the opponents, wondering if this was going to be a little too much for her to handle. Two of the demons she had fought before and knew that they were difficult to defeat on their own, let alone amongst a group. She was more than a little worried but tried not to let it show. She was the slayer. She had beaten Caleb, Glory, the Mayor and more vampires than she could even count. She could do this too.

"This is just dandy." She muttered. "Piece of cake…nothing to it…"

At least that's what she kept telling herself as the fight began. They were strong and they did not let up. She parried them all blow for blow, trying desperately to find some sort of higher ground, but they would not let up for her to do so.

She searched her mind desperately to remember some tricks that would help her, but came up blank. A demon attacked from the side, but she was too slow to block the punch. It sent her flying backwards and into a garbage can, as she let out a 'whoosh' of surprise.

The wind was knocked out of her, causing it to take a few seconds before she could stand again. Once she did, she was surprised with a sharp uppercut to the jaw that made her teeth rattle. She reeled backwards, trying desperately to regain her footing, but only ended up backing into another one of the more difficult demons who hit her in the side, cut her feet out from under her, and swung her round to receive another sharp punch to the face.

Reaching out blindly she managed to hit the demon that had her by the lapel and break free momentarily. She could taste blood already, that familiar metallic scent that was unmistakable to a slayer and it made her grimace. She knew from the pain she felt that her nose was bleeding, possibly broken. She couldn't dwell on it though-nor the ringing pain she felt in her head. That would cost her precious seconds and she didn't have those to spare right now.

Swinging around quickly, she managed to execute a strong roundhouse kick into the mid-chest area of one of her attackers which freed her up to rain various punches into those who had hurled themselves into the fray once the other demon had been flung back. It was getting harder to fend off all of them. They were stronger, faster, and more alert tonight. She just wasn't there…her game was gone.

She started to become genuinely afraid. She was alone. Her friends didn't know where she was, and there was nobody that would be of any use against these guys even if they did. Well, Methos might be…

No, she couldn't think that way. This was her job not his and she would be damned if she was going to die in some random alley way fighting your average run-of-the-mill evil demon.

No, if she was going out it would be in an apocalypse of some sort. It'd just be lame to die any other way.

Gritting her teeth in determination, she ducked down and rolled under one of the demons legs, jumping up and hitting two others quickly and succinctly. Before they could react, she had managed to pull her stake from her pocket and stake them both in the heart. They might not have been vampires, but it did the trick all the same. She had discovered very early on, that although they didn't turn to dust, most demons could not survive a stake through the heart. It was classic that way.

With two down, she was able to turn on the four that were now closing in on her. They had backed her into a corner and she was having trouble dodging the various blows that came her way. At one point she lost contact with one of the demons on the other side and found herself being rammed into the concrete wall of the alley for her troubles.

The night swam for a moment, and she had to blink to try to regain her focus. She touched her head gingerly and felt the stickiness of more blood. She growled and jammed her fist into an approaching demon angrily. They had her cornered and they knew it.

"No you don't," she ground out angrily. "Not without a fight."

Just as she began to retaliate, she felt the familiar buzz of an immortal's approach. It startled her so much, she didn't pay attention to the demon behind her, who grabbed her roughly and threw her towards the sound of the buzz. She landed at Methos' feet quite unceremoniously. She could hear him drawing his sword as she stood up to stand beside him.

"Need a hand?" He smiled at her, and she glared back. With renewed fury, she charged first into the gang of four demons and killed off another one almost as an after thought. Methos dispatched two of the other demons fairly easily freeing her up to kill the last one, though he went down pretty hard.

As soon as they were gone, she rounded on Methos, attacking him angrily before he could even speak.

"What the hell was that?" She wasn't entire certain of why she was so annoyed with his intervention, only that she was-severely.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'thank you'." He countered mildly, though his eyes showed hurt by her anger. "And that was me helping you. In case you hadn't noticed, you were in rather desperate need of it."

"When did you become a boy scout?" She demanded. She was winded and hated that he could see it. She didn't need his help. She had saved the world damn it. So why should a simple demon attack make her so angry? She really should be thanking him for his help, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to do it. She shouldn't have needed it. She should be beyond this by now. After all she had done…

"About the same time you became the lone ranger." He shot back. His tone was flat and cold now. It was obvious he didn't much care for her comparing him to Duncan. She knew it would get to him, and she was right.

"In case you've forgotten, fighting these things is my job." She turned and began walking out of the alley, not even looking back to see if he was following her. She didn't want him near her, didn't want to see the concern in his eyes at the blood flowing freely from her wounds. She felt embarrassed that he had to save her, and was using it to lash out. This was her job, not his. What the hell was he even doing here?

"Was your job," he retorted, matching her stride. She was pretty badly battered, but he had a feeling she'd been through worse. What he couldn't understand was her anger. He had been seeing her coming back from her nightly patrols with increasing amounts of bruises, but refused to talk about it whenever he had inquired as to the nature of them. She had all but cut him out of her life, since he had brought his feelings out in the open at _Le Blues Bar_ and it hurt him deeply to think they had grown so far apart that she wouldn't even tell him when she was in danger.

He began to follow her at night, from a safe enough distance that she wouldn't be able to detect his presence. The fights had indeed been getting more intense, but she had always managed to prevail, so he refrained from stepping in. Tonight however, she seemed in genuine danger and as a result his feelings had gotten the better of him. He was regretting it now as he glimpsed at the cold anger within her eyes.

She had told him she was different than before, but he had never really seen true evidence of that until now. She was closed off in an almost vital way. The slayer lore, like immortal lore said there could be only one. But she had changed that. She had so many slayers now that could help. Why had she not called for any of them?

"IS my job," she corrected in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'm the slayer."

"There you go mixing your pronouns again," he told her, attempting to lighten his tone to deflect some of her anger. "You're not the only one remember? Why haven't you called them for help? This is way too much for just you."

"I can handle it." Her tone seemed almost detached, and her eyes looked straight ahead. Still, as she spoke, he could see her lip tremble ever so slightly. There was definitely more to this. "They can't…not yet."

"You know that for sure?" He asked gently. Had she even seen the progress they had made? He would guess that by now they would have enough training to at least handle some of the smaller time stuff. Surely traveling in groups was better than being alone.

"I know a lot more than you do." She said firmly, clenching her fists as she spoke. She thought back to all the potentials that died during the battle with the first before Spike's amulet kicked in. All those faces, slayers whose names she hadn't even bothered to learn. It would not happen again. "They're too green. They're not ready. Not for this…it's too big."

"They're slayers." He reiterated.

"They're children." Her jaw set itself in a stubborn expression he remembered all too well.

"So were you."

"I was different." She insisted.

"Well la-di-dah!" He burst out, unable to contain his anger. "You're right, you have changed. There's nothing less attractive you know than an over imaginative superiority complex."

"That's not what I think!" She said hotly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"You don't think you're better?" He grabbed her arm and turned her roughly to face him. She shook him off, but did not turn away and continue walking.

"No…yes…" she shook her head, trying to formulate a coherent response. Her head hurt like hell and she tasted blood every time she swallowed. This was the last argument she wanted to be having right now. "Not in that way."

"Which is why this shouldn't be your responsibility alone." His tone was gentler now and she could tell he was worried about her injuries. "Help is available. You made that possible. Why won't you take it?"

"Because it's my fault," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear it. "If I hadn't been so selfish as to want to quit this job, those girls never would have been called all at once and this fight wouldn't be happening. I created the problem. I should be the one to fight it."

"What's happening to you?" He asked, sounding more confused than angry. "Did you suddenly decide to channel Duncan MacLeod? At the moment you have both his guilt complex and his uncanny ability to rewrite history!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She demanded.

"It means that I'm calling you on this load of bull." He said flatly. "I know you better than you think. When you created those slayers you told me you did it to allow those girls to gain control of the power they were meant to have. You allowed them to realize their destiny, so none of you would be alone. Now you're claiming it was a selfish attempt to quit? I know you want to keep those girls safe, but you are only one person. Those girls are slayers, just like you were. If anybody should realize the benefits of teamwork when it comes to slaying, it's you."

"What benefits?" She cried, losing her hard won grasp of her emotions. Faces flitted through her mind, Xander's being the most prominent as she thought of all her failures. "My best friend losing an eye? The other becoming a killer? People I love dying left right and center? Where are the benefits here, oh wise Methos? I'd really like you to tell me."

"You're still alive." He said quietly. That stilled her momentarily. "Your friends-all of them, took the risks they took to help keep you alive. You've beaten death twice thanks to them. I'm sure if you asked them, they would make those same sacrifices a hundred times over to help keep you safe."

"But they shouldn't have to!" She burst out. "This isn't their burden. It never was. Those girls that I made slayers will have to face enough without dealing with this. It's too much for them."

"It's too much for just you." He whispered, reaching out to touch her head wound ever so gently to prove it. She flinched at his touch, though not because of any particular pain caused by him. She was trying not to feel her heart speed up when he touched her, trying not to want to lean into his touch, to get lost in his gentle expression.

"I can handle it," she told him, but her voice was decidedly weaker this time. "I didn't need your help back there. I had it covered."

"You were cornered." His words were blunt and bare. "They would have worn you down eventually."

"I'm not that easy to kill." She glared at him, summoning her anger around her like a shield. If she could stay angry she couldn't feel for him. Couldn't want to touch him…pull him closer. "I've saved the world more times than I care to count remember? A couple of demons are a walk in the park."

"Pretty violent park you have going on here." He reached out again, but she had already turned away, walking faster this time. He caught up with her without a problem.

"They were just demons." She said as she walked. "Regular demons. They couldn't have killed me."

"You're not too powerful to die an ordinary death." He spoke with an odd sort of wistfulness that caused her to glance out of the corner of her eye at him. His normally secretive hazel eyes held a deep and profound look of sadness that caused her to soften momentarily towards him. Coming from a man as old as he, this was obviously a particularly difficult lesson for him to have learned.

"I've been dead," she reminded him with some humour to her tone. "Twice. I don't plan to let it happen again till I'm an old lady who can't find her teeth in the morning."

"You're not immortal." He told her. They had slowed to a comfortable pace, while he glanced at her face in the moonlight. "Even though you feel like one…you're not. The next time you die Buffy…"

"It'll be for good." She said with a shuddering breath. "I know. I got it. Point taken OK?"

"I would miss you." He told her with a tenderness in his voice that somehow managed to reach the very core of her. He sounded scared…vulnerable even and that made her want to reassure him, rather than berate him. He was too good at this…too close to her heart. It frightened her. "I would miss you more than you could know."

"I know." Her voice was hoarse, a fact which made her angry. She didn't want him to know how deeply he was affecting her. She turned to him and smiled, though it was forced. "Look, thanks for the bail back there, but I really was fine. Just…leave me alone for a bit, OK Methos? Don't follow me, or help me. I can do this. I have to do this by myself."

Before he could say anything to the contrary, she broke into a run, heading back to the villa. She was both grateful and disappointed that he didn't try to run after her.


	32. Post lifesaving protocol

Author's Note: THANK YOU once again for anybody who has ever reviewed this story! Your reviews are like crack to me….err, or what I imagine crack would be like in review form….you get my point ;) Also, for those of you who have been requesting Buffy/Methos smoochies-fear not. I won't be keeping them in angsty painville forever (though it can be SO much fun sometimes ;))

* * *

Xander couldn't get the Italian girl he'd saved out of his mind. It had been more than a month since the incident and for some reason the conversation they'd had stuck with him.

He hadn't called her. He had thought about it of course, but couldn't think of any legitimate reason to. She may have believed him when he told her that the creature that had attacked had been a vampire, but that didn't mean she could handle his world. If someone had told him nine years ago what he would be doing night after night now and why, he would have laughed himself silly, had them committed-or both. Never in a million years would he have thought this would be his life.

And there was no changing that now. He was stuck…trapped in a self-imposed cycle of guilt, death wish, and rage. He didn't know if he could change now even if he wanted to. He knew he was hurting the others deeply and wished that he could talk to them, maybe help them to explain why he was doing this. But they couldn't understand. Not even Buffy, who undoubtedly knew more about pain and grief than all of them…she was the slayer, she knew about loss…but she never would have done what Xander had. She never would have left Dawn among the rubble in order to save her own life. She would have died finding someone she loved.

Xander was too cowardly for that. They just couldn't understand that.

But Isabel seemed to. Her name had stuck with him, along with the image of her anger at his rescue. Maybe it was the fact that she had been so angry with him that kept him thinking about her. Everybody else just cried and blubbered all over him. It made him hate himself even more to watch these people treat him like some kind of hero for saving their lives. He was no hero…he never would be. Heroes didn't leave their loved ones to die. If there was a handbook, that would be one of the first rules.

But Isabel hadn't blubbered, hell it had been like pulling teeth to even get a thank you at all from her. Xander appreciated that. It had almost seemed like she could understand the raw need that drove him to fight…almost like she knew what it was like herself.

But she couldn't. She had said herself she was just a normal girl. She hadn't known about vampires, hadn't known about slayers…the supernatural was clearly new territory for her, and yet she had seemed unafraid-curious even. It made him want to talk to her, to find out more about what made her tick, to find out why she seemed to understand, when not even his closest friends seemed able to.

But he couldn't do that to her. He wanted to talk to her again out of a selfish need to connect with someone after months and months of loneliness. It wouldn't be fair to call her for that reason. She didn't deserve to get dragged into his life, his fight. Nobody did. He had done it at first out of a desire to avenge what happened to Jessie, then to help impress Buffy and finally, just to help Buffy…to do whatever he could, however small to ease her personal burden as chosen one.

Now he wished there was someone out there that could do that for him, that could help him to free himself from the pattern he had created. It was slowly killing him and yet he couldn't stop.

Tonight had been fairly quiet. He had been patrolling various cemeteries, trying to think of reasons not to call Isabel, and at the same time trying to come up with a valid excuse for getting in touch after all this time.

He wanted someone to talk to. He missed that most of all. She had been so easy to talk to-so safe. She didn't know him…didn't know the others. For a brief second he had wondered if he had seen the same flame of anger in her eyes that burned in his. He had dismissed it the moment she had confessed her ignorance to the demonic world around him, but the vision lingered in his mind nevertheless.

As he crossed into another graveyard, he saw her. She was there, standing by one of the graves. He blinked his good eye, wondering if he was just imagining things. Maybe he was truly starting to lose it. He had been thinking about her all night and now he was 'seeing her' when she wasn't there.

Except she was there. She stood, bent over the gravestone, talking softly to it as he approached.

As he did so, he realized that she was talking to someone who had been close to her. He knew it was wrong to intrude on the moment, but he couldn't help himself. Curiosity overcame his sense of politeness and he stepped closer into hearing range.

Upon hearing his footsteps, she stopped whatever it was she had been saying and stiffened noticeably. Without turning, she spoke; her voice low and threatening.

"If you intend any harm, I suggest you turn back." Her hand reached to the side of her coat, but Xander couldn't see what-if anything-was inside.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He said quietly. She must have recognized his voice, for her shoulders fell and she turned to him, her face softening as she took him in. He took her in as well and realized that this time, in an open graveyard with the moonlight streaming over them, he could see her far more clearly than in the alley way where they had first met.

She was at least as tall as him, unusual since he himself was fairly tall. She was slender, but not skinny, with short dark hair and dark eyes. Her features weren't conventionally attractive, but struck Xander nonetheless as fiercely beautiful. She was a walking study in hard lines, and sharp curves.

And he was an American guy in torn jeans, faded t-shirt, worn baseball cap and a pirate eye patch. For some reason he felt suddenly inadequate.

"I didn't expect to see you again." She told him bluntly. "You didn't call."

"Did you think I would?" He cocked his head to the side curiously.

"No, not really." She admitted. "It was a fairly odd way to meet a person. Still, I had hoped…I mean, I had enjoyed talking to you."

"I should have, but I…" he trailed off, unable to explain his reasons to her in a way that would satisfy. He looked around, wishing for an escape. It had been stupid of him to approach her at all. This was a private moment. He didn't belong here.

"You're wondering about the grave aren't you?" She seemed to have read his mind and it showed on his face.

"I uh…I'm sorry to have interrupted you. I can leave if you want me to…if it's private, I mean."

"No, it's OK." She assured him. She gestured to the grave and he took a step closer. It had two names inscribed on it. Double plot obviously. Francis and Amalia DeLuca.

"They're my parents." She said, filling in the blanks. "They died about six months ago."

"I'm sorry." He knew it sounded trite, but he couldn't keep from saying it. "How…?"

"They were killed." She supplied, her mouth set in a hard angry line. "By someone very sick and very depraved."

"They ever catch him?" He knew the answer by the look in her eyes, but decided to ask anyway. He wasn't sure what else to say. He didn't even know this girl-not really, and yet he suddenly knew her very intimately at the same time.

"Men like Methos don't get caught." She replied grimly. She turned back to the grave, and then away from it again, facing Xander. "Anyway, I come out here sometimes at night to talk to them…it helps to work through stuff. It might sound silly…"

"It doesn't." Xander assured her. "Believe me, I know what it's like to lose someone you love." He swallowed the lump inside his throat that reminded him painfully that he could never go to Anya's grave and mourn her properly. She hadn't even been allowed that, and it was his fault.

"I figured that." She said with a small smile. "You ever talk to them?"

"Only in my dreams." He said sadly. "Look, I know how much you must miss them, but you really shouldn't come out here at night Isabel. I mean, the last time I met you, you were almost vamp food. This is where they hang out. I don't want to have to save your life again."

"Do women find your American arrogance charming?" She asked with a small chuckle. He bristled slightly.

"Those things are killers. It's not arrogance. I saved you before remember?" He shook his head, unsure of why he was even having this conversation. He had decided not to involve her in his world, yet all he seemed to be doing was pushing his luck.

"You did," she acknowledged. "And then I didn't hear from you again." She knew she shouldn't be talking to him. Her mother had said not to and had implied that he could somehow be involved with Methos. Isabel knew that her mother cared about her and just wanted to help, but she had a hard time thinking of the young man in front of her as evil, especially when her own feelings towards her parents were so confused right now. She had always trusted them, but lately they were becoming so very different from the people she had known. She had hoped that coming to their graves and talking to them without them being able to answer her back would help her in some way, but all it had done was frustrate her further. She shook her head from those thoughts and focused back on Xander who smiled slightly.

"Sorry I didn't get in touch…didn't know it was proper vampire saving protocol." His tone was light, but the easiness didn't match his expression. "All these Italian customs I'm still not up on…"

"You'll learn." She said with a tight smile. "Look, seriously thanks for the warning. I really didn't think about…well until I met you I'd never seen a vampire before. It really didn't occur to me that this might be…"

"Vampapalooza? Yea, this is pretty much it." At her confused expression, he smiled. "Pop culture reference…sorry. It's a habit. Look, you wanna get out of here? I'm pretty much done for the night and it really isn't safe out here alone…"

She shouldn't go with him. It was only encouraging badness and yet he didn't seem dangerous in any way. She was normally a fairly good judge of people and she wanted to talk to him at least a little more.

"I'd like that." She replied, closing her trench coat as they headed out of the graveyard.

They found a small all night café nearby and Isabel proceeded to introduce Xander to all kinds of Italian delicacies including Gelato, a type of ice cream that he made a mental note to mention to Dawn later.

Dawn…Buffy…it had been so long since he had had any sort of casual conversation with them he had almost forgotten what it felt like. It felt so easy talking to Isabel, that he forgot that it was no longer that easy talking to those closest to him. He couldn't simply go home and mention Gelato to Dawn. She would only stare at him with that pitying sadness of hers. He hated that.

"So tell me something about yourself." Isabel was saying. "I mean, I know your name, and the fact that you fight vampires….what else is there to know?"

"Not really much else to tell," he said with a halfhearted shrug. "I'm 23 years old. I used to live in California, but our town kinda…sunk into a giant gaping hole so we had to get out. We went to Paris first, then here. I used to work in construction before we came here, but now I'm…well I'm just here really."

"Wow…you're whole town was destroyed?" Her eyes were as wide as saucers and Xander wondered if she had read or heard about Sunnydale's destruction on the news. "Was that how…I mean, you said you lost somebody…"

"Yea…it was there." He looked away, not wanting her to see the naked pain that flitted across his face. "What about you? Tell me stuff about you."

"Like you said, there's really not much." She told him with an apologetic shrug. She had already told him too much as it was. She wondered if her parents would be angry that she had confided so much in him. "I've traveled with my parents ever since I was little so I never went to a regular school. I'm 21, and living off the inheritance I received since they…well they left everything to me. I've never really had any friends other than them. I know it must seem weird to you, but they were really all I had."

"You said you learned English at an expensive private school," he pointed out softly. She met his eyes and shrugged.

"I lied," she said bluntly. "I just didn't want to tell a stranger I had just met that my dead parents taught me English. Not exactly a good conversation starter."

"Families are important." He said, thinking not of his own family, but of the one he had made in high school. He suddenly missed Willow with a fierceness that surprised him. "I get that."

"It's strange," she said looking at him as if trying to see through him to something beyond. "I've never really had any friends, or known anybody my age. My life was pretty solitary and yet…I feel like I can talk to you. Might sound stupid, since I've only met you twice, but you seem…"

"Familiar." He finished for her. She nodded.

"Yea…that's it." She shrugged. "Even if you didn't call me."

"I didn't know what to say." He admitted. He pretended to lift an imaginary phone receiver and spoke into it. "Hey Isabel, it's Xander-you know, I saved your life from a vampire the other night? Yea, so I was wondering do you want to go out for coffee and talk about our pain?"

"OK, point taken." She said with a laugh at his antics. "I'm glad I ran into you here."

"Me too." He said with a smile that surprised him. She smiled back in an all too natural way that frightened her.

She shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't be encouraging him. Her parents had warned her for a reason. If he was connected with Methos in any way this could only end up hurting her and yet he seemed so harmless. She needed more information before she could let this get any further than it already was. She had to leave before he became more than a simple curiosity. She had to leave before he became a friend.

"Isabel?" He must have seen the falter in her smile because he stared at her in concern. "You all right?"

"Look, I have to get going." She said, standing abruptly and dropping some lyra on the table to pay for the coffee and Gelato. "I shouldn't have stayed here this long. It was nice talking to you Xander. I'll…I'll be in touch."

"No you won't." He stated, meeting her guilty gaze. "You don't even know how to contact me."  
"I…" She didn't know what to say. How could she explain it to him?

"Do you want me to call you? Or did I do something?"

"I don't know. There are some…things I have to figure out." She wished her explanation didn't sound so lame.

"Look, don't worry about it." He said a little too quickly. It had been a mistake to involve her in his life to any degree anyway. Still, he couldn't let her go completely. Something about her made him want to try one more time. "Look how about this. I'll write my number down on this chair underneath it. If you want to talk to me again you can. If not…no sweat."

"Sure. That sounds fine." She gave a thin smile and turned to leave, not wanting to stay and watch him write it down. She didn't dare argue with having a way to contact him. If he truly was a danger she would need a way to get in touch with him…so she could deal with him. She knew it was necessary and yet she couldn't stay to watch him write it down as it felt too much like she was betraying him and she wasn't even sure why.


	33. The Weight of Responsibility

"I don't get it. Why hasn't the First shown itself by now?" Buffy hadn't meant to be so abrupt to Giles or Willow during their latest conference call, but she had been bottling up her frustration on so many things that it seemed to just slip out without her meaning for it to. Methos was in his room quietly staying out of her way since their latest encounter on patrol, a fact that made her angrier than it would if he had tried to make amends. He was doing just as she asked, but inside both she and he knew it wasn't what she really wanted.

She wanted to fix this. She didn't want to be angry with him. She didn't want things to have to change between them. She wanted the simplicity of what they had before.

But she had grown up, and the world could never be simple again. She had accepted it, but she didn't have to like it.

The lack of the First's presence as well as her inability to find the Italian slayer only made her angrier. She had called Willow, hoping for some sort of clue as to where to look next, but instead of talking to her best friend and her former watcher, she had jumped down their throats almost from the get-go. She immediately regretted it, but didn't have the chance to apologize. Willow was already responding.

"I don't know Buffy, I really don't." She told her sadly. "I know there's something there-something evil. I felt it. I know the First is planning something, I just don't know what."

"It came to us before," she reminded them. "When it was in Sunnydale. It appeared to us in the disguise of people who are dead. It took an exceptionally great amount of pleasure in tormenting me. Surely it knows I'm here in Rome. Why hasn't it come back to brag? Let me know I haven't defeated it? Ultimate evil means ultimate ego, but I haven't seen so much as one single dead person. What gives?"

"Perhaps since you thwarted its plans in Sunnydale it wishes to remain hidden. It may be incredibly powerful, but it isn't stupid." Giles' voice was reasonable, so much so that it almost placated her. Almost. "It might not want to make the mistake of letting you have the upper hand again."

"No," she said shaking her head, though she knew they couldn't see her. "The First would want me to know what its doing…it would want me to know I couldn't stop it. Willow are you sure that I should be here? Maybe the vision you got was from the First…a mislead to get me out of the way or something."

"Anything's possible Buffy, but I don't think so. I felt that this was the right place for you to be."

"But if it really is the First then it would know you were trying to tap into your powers to stop it," she reasoned. "Maybe it only made it hard for you to do that so you would think you were on the right track."

"If that were true than I wouldn't be getting these headaches," Willow replied softly. A thrill of fear surged through her.

"Willow are you OK?" She asked. "Are they getting worse?"

"They're not any better," was her guarded reply, "but I'm OK Buffy really."

"Willow are you sure?" Giles sounded just as worried as she did.

"Honest Giles." Willow protested. "There are more important things to worry about."

"I still think it should have shown itself by now." Buffy muttered, her thoughts turning back to her initial concern. She wasn't entirely sure she believed Willow's insistences that she was fine, but she would deal with that if it became a more major problem. For now, they had a lot to deal with.

"Maybe it can't." Willow suggested. That got Buffy's attention.

"What do you mean?"

"Well when you beat it in Sunnydale, you drained it of a lot of its power." Willow explained.

"It still had enough to attempt to block your spell." Giles pointed out. "It clearly knows how to find you. Why not Buffy?"

"I was tapping into some fairly elemental power," Willow said thoughtfully. "Power that the First would be able to tap into as well…the lines between good and evil aren't always so clear cut you know. Maybe it was able to locate me because of the mystical connection I had to those slayers. It's the whole reason the First is still trying after all."

"But that's my fault." Buffy said, almost guiltily. "Why shouldn't it know where I am as well?"

"What's happening now is not your fault," Giles told her quietly. "You had no idea this would happen."

"I should have." Buffy said, cutting him off and leaving no room for argument. "Anyway, that isn't the point. These slayers are connected to me. So why can't the First see me?"

"I don't think it's powerful enough yet Buffy." Willow said with a sigh. "I think when it tapped into me, I might have tapped into it. When I get the headaches…I sometimes feel things…things that aren't….right."

"What do you mean Will? I thought you said you were OK."

"I am!" She exclaimed, not wanting Buffy to worry any further. "I just get these feelings sometimes…pretty intense…like something blacker than hell itself. They only last for like a second, but they seem pretty…angry. And…and frustrated. As if they're trapped behind a wall they can't break through."

"It sounds as if your connection might still be there." Giles posited thoughtfully. "Those emotions and feelings seem awfully similar to the First itself. Perhaps you are feeling its frustration at its own weaknesses and limitations."

"Maybe…" Willow trailed off nervously. "But if I can feel it, does that mean it can sometimes feel me? And if so, what if it can read my thoughts? What if it can somehow use me to get to you Buffy?"

"I won't let that happen Will." Buffy said fiercely. "I won't let this thing hurt any more of my friends, I swear to you."

"Buffy you have to find that slayer as soon as possible." Giles' voice sounded slightly more urgent. "I have the feeling she is the key to…to all of this. I have Joe, and the others in Paris looking up whatever they can on legendary or mystical evils, but…well you're the only one who can actually locate her."

"I know Giles," she whispered, feeling the weight of her responsibility rest heavily on her shoulders once more. "I'll find her somehow."

"Has Adam been able to help you at all?" Willow asked. Buffy looked towards his bedroom door, wondering if somehow he could hear Willow's question. She didn't want to talk about him on the phone…not yet.

"He does what he can," was her vague reply. "Look Willow, let me know the minute you find those witches. If the first can tap into you, then you need to know that and find out how to fight it."

"I know Buffy. I'm doing my best."

"I know you are Will," she told her softly. She felt almost sick with guilt. If something happened to Willow because of this…

No, she wouldn't think about that. She would concentrate on the matter at hand. Giles cleared his throat.

"Buffy, there's also another matter that I felt I should bring to your attention."

"What is it?" She was alert once more, the hesitation in Giles' voice not sounding at all like a good thing.

"Angel called me. It seems he and his…team, now own a law firm that has a particularly evil reputation."

"A law firm?" It almost sounded ridiculous. It certainly didn't sound at all like Angel. Something else had to be going on.

"An evil law firm," Giles stressed. "Their clientele is generally demonic in nature."

"Well whatever he's up to I'm sure it's part of his mission to fight it." She replied, not believing for a second that Angel might have reverted to his old ways. If Angelus had somehow surfaced again, Giles would have told her already. Whatever Angel was doing, she trusted him. However, she could tell from Giles' tone that he didn't. "Look Giles, whatever you're thinking just…don't OK? I know Angel. If he's not Angelus, then he's one of the good guys. End of story."

"I'm afraid it isn't Buffy." Giles' voice sounded deeply apologetic, causing her heart to plummet. What else was she going to have to deal with? "Angel contacted me earlier today. It appears that one of the girls that gained slayer powers when Willow did that spell wasn't quite all there to begin with."

"What do you mean?" She suddenly felt it hard to swallow. "What's wrong with her?"

"From what Angel told me, she was brutalized as a child by a mad man and put away in a mental hospital that she…" he paused, obviously working up the courage to finish, "that she just broke out of. She's already killed a few people rather viciously. She needs to be dealt with."

"Do you need me to go?" She asked, immediately planning out a strategy in her mind. She hadn't had any luck locating the Roman slayer, but that didn't mean Methos and Xander possibly wouldn't in her absence. She was responsible not only this slayer, but also the people she had killed because of the powers Buffy gave her. She had to do something.

"I've already sent someone." Giles assured her. "I just wanted you to know the situation."

"Giles if she's killed people because I gave her that power…"

"You aren't responsible for the entire world Buffy." He told her gently. "This girl was disturbed before she became the slayer."

"But now she has the strength to hurt people with it." She shot back. "I did that. Me."

"And me," Willow put in softly. "It was my spell."

"Someone is on their way to Los Angeles to help her, I promise you." Giles replied. "I am deeply sorry I had to tell you about her, but I wanted to know…what do you think we should do with her when Angel and his group find her? She cannot be held in any conventional facilities and yet…"

"Angel will know what to do." She replied, feeling relieved at least that she had broken out in his city. She could count on him to make sure the girl didn't hurt anybody else.

"I don't think it's wise to leave her in LA." Giles said firmly. It was then the penny dropped.

"That's why you're telling me this," she realized. "You don't trust Angel anymore, so you want me to tell you she should be where you guys are."

"It's not as if I don't have good reason not to trust him," Giles pointed out.

"You may not have any reason to trust him, but I do." Buffy said firmly. "If he can handle this girl, then I think you should let him. You want to bring her back to the council? Fine. Just make sure she stops hurting people. That's…that's all I care about."

"I'll do as I feel is best then," Giles concluded. Buffy nodded, not wanting to ask what that was. She suddenly felt very very old, and very tired.

"Look, I gotta go." She said, shaking the thoughts from her head. "Willow I'll talk to you later OK? Let me know if you find anything, no matter how insignificant it seems."

"I will Buffy." She promised.

"Buffy…"

"No more Giles OK?" She cut him off. "I just don't want to hear it right now."

She hung up the phone before he could reply and grabbed her coat. Before she left the house, she knocked lightly on Methos' bedroom door. Before it was even open all the way she spoke.

"I'm going out to patrol." She said flatly. "Don't follow me. I can deal with it myself."

Methos merely nodded and shut the door.


	34. Just Another Night on the Job

Author's Note: I don't speak Italian. I only speak English and some haphazard French, so all the Italian that is spoken hear was done using an internet translation (which I am sure makes the translation come out quite broken). If anybody reads this who happens to speak Italian I would be forever in your debt if you could correct me as to what I've done wrong. For those of you (like myself) that don't speak Italian, I have included at the bottom everything that is said within the context of the chapter and the English translation for it. It just didn't make sense (from a literary standpoint) to do it completely in English, so here goes…

* * *

Buffy threw herself into that night's patrol with a fervor that surprised even her. She was angry and that always showed in her slaying. Anger fueled her fire, made her stronger, more aggressive, harder. It made her care less about what happened to her, and more about what happened to her enemies.

She wanted the kill. Wanted the satisfaction of seeing them turn to dust, or in the case of demons, the life leave their eyes as they fell to the ground. It made her feel as if there were still some things she had control over. Apocalypses came unbidden and all Buffy could do was react to them. Her mother had been right when she said her job was largely reactionary. But that didn't mean it was pointless and with each demon that fell, Buffy felt she was just one step closer.

To what though she had no idea. She used to think it meant that she was one step closer to being able to quit, to lead a normal life. But that hadn't been it. She had tried that, and it hadn't worked. She couldn't stay away, however much she thought she wanted to. Staying away meant someone else had to pick up the mantle, and although there were thousands of those 'someone else's' training right this moment, Buffy couldn't bear the idea of someone doing this because she refused to. One slayer dies, the next one is born. That was how it had always been. She had tried to change it, but her conscience would not allow it. Some rules, no matter how hard she tried just shouldn't be broken. She would do this until she died. Even then, it didn't always mean it was over for her. She had learned that the hard way.

She had killed three vampires already this evening, but it wasn't enough. Vampires were old hat. Easy. She needed a challenge, she needed to put her frustration into the fight, needed to feel the fire she seemed only able to feel when she was fighting.  
Fighting…or making love. No. She SO wasn't going there.

But even as she thought that, an image of Methos sprang into her mind. She tried to block it out, to forget the hurt she had seen in his eyes this evening when she had shut the door in his face, but she couldn't. He was in her now, a part of her no matter how hard she tried to deny it. He didn't know it, but he mattered more than she wanted to admit.

And part of her hated him for it.

And just as her thoughts turned in that direction, a sharp cry of distress pierced the night air. She turned in the direction it came from and without thinking, was off running towards the nearby grave yard.

It was fairly generic as far as grave yards went. It had all the ingredients: tomb stones, dead people and vampires. Six as a matter of fact and it seemed they had two young victims captive.

_Likely a couple_, Buffy reflected as she ran towards them. _Out for a walk, decided to cut through the grave yard…damn why do they always think this place is safe?_

She reached the vamps with renewed determination and launched into a flying sidekick, hitting one of the vamps square in the head and knocking him a few feet backwards. She landed on her knees next to the stunned vampire and wasted no time in staking him and then turning to face the remaining five.

"Who wants the next dance?" She queried innocently. They were staring at her with rather stunned looks on their faces. The only good thing about being new to this particular Hellmouth was that most demons didn't realize she was the slayer until they were already at the wrong end of her stake.

One of the demons holding the teenage male said something in Italian that Buffy didn't understand. It was likely a threat, but it annoyed her nonetheless that she couldn't follow.

The only bad thing about the new Hellmouth of course would be the inability for the vampires and demons she fought to understand English. Well, the new ones couldn't anyway. Older vamps and demons tended to have done a little more traveling. Either way, these guys would obviously not be affected by her witty slaying banter, which tended to give her an edge in a fight.

"Well I'll just have to talk with my fists," she said with a shrug as she approached the group. She looked at the couple. "If you guys can understand even a little of what I'm saying, the minute you get the chance to, I want you to run."

Three of the vamps rushed her as she said this while the other two held the teenagers and leaned into bite them.

Buffy rolled underneath the approaching vamps and managed to elbow the vamp about to bite the young girl in the face before it could do so.

"Run!" She shouted at her as she tackled the vamp to the grass, and staked it. It turned to dust, but there was no reprieve as another was attacked her from behind. She stood up and threw her head back and was rewarded with the solidity of the approaching vampire's head cracking against the back of hers. It hurt for a bit, but it did the job, staggering the vampire so she could whirl on him and stake him as well.

There were three vampires left and one was still holding the boy captive. The girl had stood and watched Buffy, completely stunned while Buffy shouted at her. Even after she had ordered her to run, the girl did not comply. Either she didn't understand the universal language of danger, or she was in shock. Neither was a good.

Buffy threw herself at the vamp holding the boy, attacking it swiftly and without mercy. The boy scrambled away onto the grass and Buffy fought harder. He was difficult-moreso than the other vamps which had been fairly easy to dust. He fought back with a fierceness that she hadn't seen from a vampire in a good long while.

_He's older, _she thought as she landed a roundhouse kick to the face. _And he knows who I am. _That was a key factor in this fight. He knew her. He was ready for her. He hadn't underestimated her and he was giving as good as he got. He was ready for a fight.

She ducked a heavy handed punch, grabbed the arm that had shot out at her and twisted it, throwing the vampire to the ground. She shot down to the ground just as quickly as she could, but the vampire had already rolled away to regroup and charge again.

A sharp unexpected kick to the stomach had her on the ground, winded and surprised. She hadn't even seen it coming. She had concentrated on this one vampire to the exclusion of the others and it had resulted in both approaching at once.

Ignoring the sharp pain in her stomach, she launched herself back up and managed to stake the closest vampire to her before turning on the other one. There were two left, including the old vamp.

"No, fa non per favore!" The sound of the boy's voice distracted her for a brief second and it cost her a sharp blow to the face via the younger vampire. She tasted blood, which only served to anger her more.

"You messed up my smile," she muttered angrily. "That's gonna cost you."

She delivered a harsh uppercut to the vampire's chin, followed by a kick to the side. It did the trick, causing him to falter slightly. She took the opportunity and drove a stake into his chest.

There was only one left. The older one. She turned, and was horrified to see the young girl lying on the grass, her eyes glassy, open and staring in her final expression of terror. She hadn't been able to save her.

She didn't have any time to dwell on her failure however, as the vampire had grabbed the boy who was too upset by his girlfriend's death to put up much resistance.

"Oh no you don't," she growled, gritting her teeth and making a run for the vamp. He had just sunk his teeth into the young boy's neck when she reached him, kicking upwards and hitting his forehead with the edge of her toe.

It drove the vampire back just enough so that the boy was free. But he didn't run. Instead he staggered over to the body of his girlfriend and cradled her head in his lap, crying noisily. Buffy should have felt bad for him, but her anger was too great for that now.

"You wanna get killed too? Run!"

He didn't seem to hear her though, and she didn't have time to argue. Turning back to the fight, she ducked as a fist came close to her cheek and returned it with a harsh blow of her own. The vampire was obviously surprised by her force as he was knocked back a step or two. She felt herself grin, though her smile was slightly bloody.

"Yea, that's right. Now you've made me mad."

She jumped and kicked him hard mid-air in the chest, landing and rolling into a summersault which allowed her to leap up behind him and stake him from behind before he could react.

All the vamps were dusted, but it was far too late to save the girl. Buffy turned, not wanting to look, but knowing she had no other choice.

The young boy still held her, sobbing quietly now. He didn't even look up as Buffy approached him. She didn't know if he had even seen her dust the vamp. For all he knew she could be the creature. But he didn't move. He couldn't. He was too frozen with grief.

She knew the feeling.

Her heart constricted as she laid a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. He flinched, and looked up at her, eyes filled with tears.

"I….I'm sorry," she whispered, the guilt crashing over her like an angry title wave.

"È morta," he whispered brokenly. He looked back at the girl, then up at Buffy angrily. His eyes filled with rage and pain. "È morta!" He was yelling now, and Buffy could only stand there watching the boy grieve and feeling every bit responsible for his pain.

"What…what was her name?" Her voice was hoarse as she tried to keep the tears at bay. In her mind she could see the young girl standing there, too scared to run. She probably didn't want to leave her boyfriend. She probably stayed for him. And Buffy couldn't protect her.

They boy didn't know what she was saying, but Buffy needed to know. She needed to know that this girl had a name. That she wasn't just another faceless victim. It would hurt more, but she needed the hurt. She needed the consequences. They were all that was keeping her human anymore. All that was keeping her from becoming like Xander, or Faith or a hundred other examples of those she had failed.

"Her name," she said gently to the boy. She pointed to herself and said, "Buffy."

He still looked confused, so she did it again. She then pointed to the young girl.

"What was her name?"

"Si chiamava Francesca." The boy replied. He swallowed heavily and pointed at her, his voice rising in octave. "Si chiamava Francesca. È morta!"

"I'm sorry," she whispered weakly. She felt a tear slide down her cheek, and pushed it away fiercely. She knelt down next to the boy, trying to offer whatever comfort she could. But he was inconsolable. "I'm so sorry. I…I tried…."

"È morta e è la sua colpa! È tutta la colpa!" He clutched her fiercely and Buffy turned away from his gaze, unable to bear the hate and blame in his eyes. She should have saved her, should have been quicker, faster, stronger. She was the slayer.

She didn't know what he was saying precisely, but she knew he blamed her. And he had every right. She tried to stop the tears that now flowed freely from her eyes, but it was like an emotional dam had burst and Buffy had no control over it.

Turning back to the boy, she attempted to apologize again, but before she could say anything he spat in her face.

"Appena andare. Lei lascia muore. Uscire da qui!" His voice came out a furious hiss. Angrily he reached out and shoved her back, motioning for her to leave with his hand.

She stared at him helplessly, transfixed by the naked pain on his face, racked with guilt and completely unable to do anything about it. He didn't want her there, that much was plain, but could she really just leave? What if more demons happened along in her absence? What if he lost his life the same way?

From the look on his face at the moment she guessed he didn't much care if he lived or died. But she did. That's all she could do anymore.

Yanking the boy to his feet, she hauled him angrily against the wall of a mausoleum and shook him sharply to get his attention.

"She's gone." She said firmly, her heart breaking along with his. "This place isn't safe. Leave her. I will take care of her. Just go."

He shook his head fiercely, obviously understanding the meaning in her eyes, if not the words themselves.

"Posso non. Non posso partirla." He glanced at her body and wiped the tears away with the back of his sleave. Shaking his head, he stared at her. "Non posso partirla."

"I know how you feel," she told him. "I do. But you have to go." There was still no reaction, and Buffy knew that somehow she had to get the boy out of the graveyard. Stealing herself against what she knew she had to do, she grabbed the boy by the collar once more and hit him in the face, hard enough to split his lip. He stared at her in shock.

"I was being gentle." She said angrily. "I won't be next time. Go."

She shoved him for emphasis, but he seemed to have got the message. Taking one last look at the girl laying on the ground, he ran swiftly from the graveyard leaving Buffy there to deal with the lifeless body on the ground.

She couldn't take her with her. She had no idea who the girl was, beyond her first name, which the boy had provided. She couldn't take the body to the police. They would not understand her and that could lead to complications including the possibility of her arrest for the girl's murder.

She couldn't bury her in an unmarked grave. That was out of the question. The girl deserved a proper funeral, proper mourning. She owed her that much. Besides, the boy would be back and if he could not find her, it would only make it worse.

But she certainly couldn't just leave her lying out in the open like this.

Looking around, she saw the door to the mausoleum had a very thin padlock on the outside. It wasn't a proper grave, but it was shelter of a sort.

Making her decision, she hit the padlock as hard as she could with the butt of her stake and wrenched open the large cement door. She picked up Francesca as gently as she could, placing her down on the cold cement as comfortably as she could. It was a hollow comfort for Francesca felt neither the stone floor, nor the grass now. She was elsewhere. All that remained was a shell.

"I'm sorry," she whispered one more time. "You don't know how much."

She leaned down and kissed the girl softly on the forehead and exited the mausoleum. Finding the largest rock she could, she carved the girl's name into the stone of the mausoleum, hoping the boy would be able to figure out that was where she was.

Heart heavy, she headed back home, trying desperately to convince herself that this was just another night on the job.

* * *

Glossary of Italian sentences (badly translated, I apologize):

"No, fa non per favore": "No, please no!"

"E Morta!": "She's dead!"

"Si chiamava Francesca": "Her name was Francesca."

"È morta e è la sua colpa! È tutta la colpa": "She's dead and it's all your fault. It's all your fault!"

"Appena andare. Lei lascia muore. Uscire da qui": "Just go. You let her die. Get out of here!"

"Posso non. Non posso partirla": "I can't. I can't leave her."


	35. Learning to Love

Author's Note: Thanks to Sheena for helping to edit this chapter. I changed the two main things you suggested, but I couldn't remember where you had suggested I put those extra 'had's…Here it is people! A little taste of Methos/Buffy numminess!

* * *

She walked back slowly at first, trying not to think of what she had just been through, trying to tell herself that she couldn't save everyone and that it was ridiculous to feel so much for those she failed. Spike had tried to tell her that once when she thought she had killed Warren's girlfriend Katrina. Faith had the same attitude as well when she accidentally killed the Mayor's aid while out on patrol. Each felt that the slayer's wins outscored their losses, like somehow within the cosmic balance of things, they ended up canceling each other out, or putting the slayer on the winning side if she did her job well. Buffy wanted to believe them. She wanted to be able to think that way, but she couldn't.

She had thought at first that it was because she knew more, because she had gone through more. Faith had been relatively new to slaying when Buffy first met her. In comparison, she was a veteran. She had thought because she had done it longer, she had all the answers. She had her own personal morality sewn up tight; solid and unchangeable. Killing was wrong and accidents could not happen…not to slayers.

But Faith had challenged that. She had broken every rule there was, and some that hadn't been invented. She had traveled to hell and back and lived to tell the tale. Through it all, Buffy had always believed that her trials had been a lesson Faith had to learn on the personal responsibility of the slayer. She told herself that she had just been without guidance…alone too long, without a mentor.

Then she thought she killed Katrina and Spike tried to talk her out of turning herself in using the very same logic Faith had. He told her that she had inevitably saved more people than she had lost and that accidents happen. He thought it ridiculous that she should want to throw her own life away because of a mistake. But Buffy had felt responsible then to. She rationalized Spike's wisdom as being faulty on the account of the fact that he had no soul. What was a hundred years or so of life experience when it was all on the evil end of the spectrum?

So she had ignored him, but it was getting harder and harder to see her own morality as unchangeable. How did slayers live this way? How could she go on night after night, knowing that the lives and well being of every slayer that she had created were her responsibility? Losing people on patrol was hard enough. It had happened once or twice before, and no matter how much her friends told her it wasn't her fault, that it couldn't be helped, Buffy would carry their memories and faces with her until the say she died. She felt she owed them at least that.

But what about these girls? These children that she had turned into warriors were all her charges now. She hadn't even gotten to know any of them for the most part. She had avoided them at first, not wanting to connect, too afraid of the soul wearying pain she would experience if she let them down. Even now, she was guilty of that. She was in Italy while the slayers she had created trained in England. She could send for them if she wanted, but instead she hesitated not only because she felt they might not be ready, but also because she did not want to lose them if she were right. She didn't want more faces to add to the list of ones that haunted her nights. She didn't want their deaths on her already battered conscience.

And tonight she had added one more. One more innocent who had been lost to the night. One more victim of her own inadequacies. One more girl whose name she barely even knew.

Francesca.

She was so very tired of it all.

She suddenly wanted nothing more than to be back at Methos' villa, where she felt safe and sheltered, away from everything out here that reminded her of her violent existence. She walked faster, wanting to reach her destination as soon as possible, but she couldn't escape the image of Francesca's blank glassy stare. She tried walking faster, tried running, but it followed her, refusing to let her go.

The streets flew by her as she raced back to the villa. The tears were flowing freely from her eyes now, but she barely felt them. Nothing mattered except getting back to the villa, back to the one place she felt safe and the man who had come to mean more to her than she ever thought possible.

She needed him tonight. She couldn't face this on her own. It was too much…too hard. She thought she could do it, but the idea of closing herself off, of seeing Francesca, and the mentally troubled slayer as well as all those they had lost in the fight against the First without anyone to understand terrified her more than anything else ever had. She needed to forget about it, to allow herself to be taken away with him to a place where nothing mattered.

She wanted him to hold her, to tell her that she had done all she could, that she wasn't a failure. Even if she didn't believe it, she needed to hear it, she needed to know that he believed it…that he believed in her. She didn't know if she could do it anymore without that to hold on to.

It frightened her to realize that so completely, but it also made her more determined. She had treated him badly, had pushed him away because she was afraid of getting to close. She was afraid she couldn't be what he needed, but she had never once thought that maybe he was exactly what she needed…that maybe he hadn't professed his feelings to her to get something from her, but rather to give something of himself.

She hadn't been in a relationship that selfless and giving in so long that she had forgotten what it felt like. Spike had loved her, but had always wanted more from her than she could give. He'd always wanted her to fill what was empty inside of him. He hadn't realized that parts of her were just as empty until it was too late. By the time he had gotten his soul and Buffy was beginning to realize what a good man he could be, she had come to value his friendship far more than she ever thought she would and refused to risk it with another potential disaster that almost always accompanied a deeper relationship.

Spike had understood that on some level, she was almost sure of it, though she would never get over the regret she felt at not being able to convince him that she did truly love him before he died. Even then, the love had not been completely selfless for he had wanted to hear that from her above all else.

Riley had been someone that she could never fully satisfy because of his own insecurities. She had tried to love him, but had known deep down she never could. He needed too much from her and she just wasn't capable of being what he had needed.

But Angel had not wanted anything. He had never demanded anything. He had tried his hardest to keep from loving her, because all that had mattered to him was her own happiness. His love for her had been enough to recognize that as much as they wanted to be with one another, all he was doing was hurting her by staying, so he left.

She had not thought she would ever find someone who cared about her as much as Angel had until now…until she found herself racing through the darkened streets of Rome, to the man who possibly shared that distinction. He loved her. She had known that on some level ever since they parted ways in Seacouver five years before.

What she hadn't known was how much and in what way. And how much she realized she loved him back. But she did now. It all came to her as she reached the villa and raced up the stares, grateful that both Xander and Dawn were out as she rapidly knocked on his door.

He opened it, but before he could say anything, she was inside, reaching behind his neck to pull his face to hers, and gasping as their lips made the contact that she had been craving.

He responded instantly and without hesitation. She wasn't sure if it was because he had been waiting for this, assuming it would happen or if he was operating on pure primal instinct and at this point she didn't care. All she cared about was forgetting, drowning herself in a sea of pure sensation that only his mouth, his touch, his scent could arouse.

She ran her hands through his closely cropped hair as she backed him up against the wall. Nothing else mattered but the way their tongues met, the way he moaned when she deepened the kiss, and the way his hands felt as they traveled from her neck over her breasts with feather-light gentleness and down to her waist where they clutched her hips fiercely.

He was everything she had imagined he would be. Firm, and yet excruciatingly gentle, passionate and yet sensual. As she pressed herself against his chest, she was surprised at how solid he felt underneath his innocuous trade mark sweaters. His body was warm. She could feel already despite the layers of fabric between them. It was a bit of a shock as she was used to the relative coldness of her past two lovers, both of whom had been vampires. Riley had possessed human body heat, but he had never excited her the way Methos did.

She wanted to be closer to that heat, that source of warmth. She wanted to run her hands down his chest, to press it to her. She needed his heat. Needed it to warm her again-body and soul.

To that end, she reached towards him and grabbed the hem of his sweater, inching it up, desperately trying to get past the blasted fabric and touch the man beneath. His arms tightened around her, pulling her close against him as she did so and making it even harder to lift the shirt.

"Methos," she murmured, too lost in his kisses to properly form a sentence. "Help…help me lift…"

"No…" his voice was ragged with passion, barely registering in Buffy's mind. She reached for him again, but he pulled back, turning her around so that she stood against the wall and pushing her forcefully away, ending the kiss as abruptly as it had began.

Both faces were flushed and their breathing laboured.

"What…why did you…?" She broke off, still very much affected by his kiss. When her eyes met his, she saw that the intensity and sensuality of what happened was still very much with him, though he was trying desperately not to feel it.

"This isn't right." He spoke quietly, but his voice quivered with both emotion and physical frustration. "You're…crying. And you're bleeding."

"Bad night on the job," she whispered, clenching her fists and trying to block out the image of Francesca's stare.

"Talk to me," he spoke with heartbreaking tenderness, reaching out to cup her face in his and drawing her close once more. She gasped at the depth of love she glimpsed in his eyes. Instinctively, she reached up and touched his lips ever so softly.

"I…I just want to forget." She leaned toward him again, needing his touch more than she ever had before, but he pulled away, denying the connection she craved.

"You can't. It's not healthy. You need to talk about it. What happened?"

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, feeling the frustration creep up on her. "You want this, I know you do! You told me you wanted to be with me, that you were waiting for me….that you cared about me."

"I do," he said hoarsely, looking away and backing up to sit down on his bed. "And I have for a long time, but the reasons are wrong. We both know it. I don't want to be some momentary distraction from your pain. I don't want to be used that way."

"That's not what this is!" She exclaimed quickly…a little too quickly maybe. His head snapped up and anger flashed in his eyes.

"Oh no? You treat me like dirt for the last few weeks, tell me to stay the hell away from you when I save your life and now that you've had a bad night you suddenly wanna cuddle?" He his voice lowered and became hard and cold. "It doesn't work that way child."

"I'm not a child." Her voice was now equally as icy and the pain she had felt earlier was now replaced by rage.

"You are," he said with a soul weary sigh. He looked away and swallowed heavily. "You all are."

"Methos…" She felt her heart drop into the bottom of her chest at the defeat she saw in his eyes. The anger evaporated like smoke and her voice was soft and pleading. "Don't…please don't turn away from me."

She hated that she was begging. She hated that he had that power over her…that she needed him so much. She hated herself for being so weak to begin with.

"What do you want from me?" He looked back at her, echoing the question she had asked him months ago when they danced together at Joe's bar. She tentatively stepped towards him.

"I want…" she took a deep breath. "I want you. I want to be with you. I need you. I…" she broke off, choking back a sob and turned away, not wanting him to see how badly she was shaking.

He stood up, taking her small hand in his and guiding her over to where he sat on the bed. When she sat down beside him, he folded her into his arms and pressed her head gently against his chest as the tears overtook her, his soothing accent whispering incoherent words of comfort in her ears.

When she had finished, he reached over to a box of Kleenex he had on the table beside the bed and used it to dry her eyes and wipe off the blood that remained as evidence of her night.

"I'm sorry." She finally said when he had finished. "I didn't mean to…I must look like hell."

"You look beautiful." He murmured, his gaze intent.

"Yea, well after five thousand years I think you've probably learned false flattery when a girl's been crying all over you." She smiled and drew a shaky breath, her confidence and strength returning like a comfortable and well worn blanket. "Seriously though…thank you. I needed that."

"You want to talk about it?" He leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead, not wanting to let go of the intimacy they had shared before, even if it had been fighting. "I know you're hurting Buffy. Tell me what happened…let me in."

"I fought some vampires tonight." Her voice was stronger now, but her eyes remained haunted. "They had two kids hostage. They couldn't have been more than fifteen years old. I saved the boy, but the girl…I failed."

"She died." Methos finished for her. Buffy bit her lip and nodded. "It's not your fault."

"I know," she told him with a shake of her head. "Somehow, on some level, I know, but…"

"You can't save them all." He said with a wistful smile. "Believe me, I wish you could, but you're only one person."

"Yea, I've told myself that a million times." She said ruefully. "But I don't feel it. And every time I mess up…every time I get there too slowly, or miss the mark…it hurts. And I see those people. It never goes away does it?"

"No," he whispered regretfully. "It never does."

"I just wanted to block it out for one night." She shook her head sadly. "I wanted to forget."

She stood up and squared her shoulders. Methos almost reached out at the lack of closeness between them, but refrained from doing so.

"I'm sorry I used you." She smiled sadly, wondering if she had blown whatever chance they might have had at a relationship before it even began. "I won't bother you again."

"No, wait." He reached out and grasped her hand before she could leave. "I don't want you to go. What happened before…"

"Was a mistake." She finished heavily, not wanting to be reminded of it. It was embarrassing enough to think of how much she had wanted him and how he had pushed her away.

"Then it was the best damn mistake I've had in a good long while." He said with a raw chuckle that lightened the mood slightly. She felt relief course over her as she realized that while he might have pulled away physically, the desire had not once left his eyes. "I want to do this Buffy. I want to have a relationship with you, but I need to know that you are doing it for the right reasons."

"What about love?" She asked him, meeting his eyes and taking a deep breath of courage. "Is the fact that I love you a good enough reason?"

"The best," he murmured, his eyes softening with relief as he pulled her close to kiss her deeply. When he pulled back once more, she could see the tears in his own eyes and wondered how long they had been there-threatening him beneath the surface of his own normally closely guarded emotions.

"I love you Buffy." He told her stroking her hair almost reverently. "And what happened a minute ago, was….wow. And I do want that to happen again, but now just yet. Let's take this slow, one step at a time. Minute, by minute. Kiss, by kiss…"

He pulled her close once more and this time their lips met with unbelievable gentleness. Buffy savoured it before pulling back and smiling at him.

"Slow is…is good." She finally said with a nod. "Maybe tonight we could just sleep? Maybe you could just…hold me?"

"I'd like nothing more," he whispered as their hands clasped almost of their own volition and the door to the bedroom closed.


	36. A Moment to Grow Up

Author's Note: Apologies for being so late in updating. I know where I am going with this story, but writer's block slowed me down temporarily in figuring out how the hell I'm going to get there. Hopefully updates will be a little more frequent now. I know she doesn't read this, but special thanks to Lauren Mills who gave me the idea that will tie the entire story together.

* * *

The room was dark as the film ended and the credits started to roll on the television screen. Dawn yawned lazily and snuggled closer into the crook of Richie's arm, not wanting to leave the coziness of their current arrangement to take the tape out of the VCR. She sighed as she thought with slight annoyance that it would be so much easier if Adam just gave in and bought a decent DVD player for the villa. It wasn't as if he didn't have the money for it, and yet he seemed to claim for some unknown reason that VHS was the better format, refusing to give into the new technology and claiming it was merely a phase. Consequently all the rooms in the villa contained VCRs along with a large collection of some pretty old VHS tapes to go with it.

Dawn and Richie had selected one from the pile to watch that night, content just to be with one another. It had been Dawn's turn to choose the film that night and she had gone with Labyrinth, a personal favourite of hers ever since she could remember. Sarah had always been a character she looked up to and when she was little she would spend countless hours attempting to wish the Goblin King would come and take Buffy away. It wasn't until she had gone through Giles' record collection one day that she realized the Goblin King was David Bowie, and that had thrown her whole little fantasy way out of whack. Still, the movie remained a farvourite and since Richie had never seen it, Dawn felt she couldn't continue dating him until that was rectified.

It had been a pretty relaxing last few days, despite that Xander was as taciturn as ever. She had seen Buffy exiting Adam's room the other night and when cornered on it, Buffy had confessed to her that things had indeed changed between her and Adam. Dawn could remember her words to Buffy had been 'about damn time' and was rewarded with a blush of all things from her sister who had almost seemed to glow as she talked. She knew all was not sunshine and roses, for she caught the two of them discussing a death later on that day that Buffy had not been able to prevent, but the fact that Adam was now there in support of Buffy as a partner pleased Dawn greatly. She knew he cared for her sister and wanted to see Buffy happy again with someone who wouldn't hurt her. Adam seemed to be the guy for that, despite that he would live forever. Hey, everyone has problems right?

And she was dealing with that factor when it came to Richie fairly well she thought. It weirded her out to think that in a few short years she might look older than him, but tried not to dwell too much on that aspect. There was a very good chance she might be dead in the next few years as well. Or he might be. They both lived dangerous lives, which made living in the now even more crucial than ever before.

And the now, Dawn had to admit was pretty good. She was certain that she was falling in love with Richie, if she hadn't already. She had never been in love before, so she didn't want to jump to any hasty conclusions on that score, but she had never felt so strongly for someone before. It had never felt so natural, so right that she be with this person. When she touched him, or kissed him, it felt like part of her was complete that had once been hollow. It was an incredible feeling and one that gave her a whole new level of understanding for everything that Buffy had been through.

Love certainly made you do the wacky and Dawn was thrilled that she was finally getting to find out. The fact that Richie was immortal made it a bit more complicated than she would have liked, but she was determine to make it work despite that.

Tonight had been nearly perfect. The movie was good, Richie was warm and solid against her and…snoring. Dawn turned her head, surprised to see that Richie's was lolling against her shoulder, and his chest rose and fell rhythmically. He had fallen asleep and she hadn't even noticed.

"Richie," she whispered, shaking him ever so gently. He woke fairly quickly and rubbed his eyes.

"It's dark," he murmured. "Movie over?"

"You fell asleep," she pouted, realizing that Richie had missed the best part of the movie. The scene where Sarah confronts Jareth and realizes that she has the power in his world was always one that Dawn rewound again and again when she was little. He looked so majestic in his white outfit, and the saddened and yet angry look on his face had always made her shiver. She knew that scene in the film represented Sarah's ability to finally grow up and accept the adult world and after seeing it tonight, Dawn had a better understanding of all that that entailed. This time, rather than feeling sorry for Jareth, she felt sorry for Sarah, for certainly hers was a bittersweet victory.

"I'm sorry Dawn," Richie told her sheepishly. "It's really late though, and I was really tired."

"Don't worry about it," she assured him kissing his nose softly. "We have all the time in the world. We'll just watch it another night."

"We should probably get up and take the tape out." Richie pointed out. However, instead of getting up, he sank down into the couch and wrapped his arm around Dawn, drawing her closer to him and kissing the top of her head.

"How 'bout we just mute it for now?" she suggested hitting the button on the remote and turning to look up at Richie. "Cause there are plenty of fun things we could do in the dark I'm sure."

"Mmmm, like what?" Richie asked, leaning down and giving her a long, lingering kiss that sent tingly feelings all the way down to her toes.

"Well," she murmured as they broke apart. "What you just did there? That was good. I liked that."

"Me too," he whispered going in for another kiss. Just as he did so however, the phone rang, causing Dawn to jump almost completely off the couch and into mid air. Richie seemed rather startled as well, but recovered quickly enough to pick up the phone and answer it.

"Hello?" It could only be a couple of people. Buffy and Methos were out patrolling, so unless something went terribly wrong it wouldn't be them. Xander was absent as per usual which left the possibility either to someone from Paris, or someone from the Watcher's council location in London. Sure enough, he was right as Duncan MacLeod's voice came over the telephone.

"Richie, that you?"

"Yea, it's me Mac," Richie sat up, fully alert now. Mac wouldn't be calling him unless it was something to do with immortal business. Neither of them were really 'phone people' and that was generally its only usage among them. Well that, and whenever the bad guys called Duncan to threaten him. That seemed to happen a lot.

"You might have a problem." Duncan sounded concerned, which did not bode well for Richie.

"What's up?"

"You recall an immortal by the name of David Karkose?" Duncan's voice was curious, but not innocent. He was driving at something, and Richie knew what it was.

"Yea, I do," he said, heart feeling like lead. "I fought him a few years back after…after you took the dark quickening. I was challenging whoever I could and he just happened to be in a bar the same night I was. We were interrupted by police sirens but he vowed to finish it. Why?"

"He's in town." Duncan told him. "Or he was. He came here looking for you Rich. When I told him you weren't here, he said he was going to find you. Apparently he didn't forget about it. I didn't tell him where you were, but it's likely he'll find you at some point. I just thought I would call you and give you the heads up."

"Thanks Mac," Richie replied, suppressing the inward desire to sigh heavily. That point in his life had been a particularly dark one and one he did his level best to forget 23 hours out of the day. It was usually in that one, single hour that the nightmares of those he had killed for no reason would haunt him. David Karkose had not been one of those people and Richie was grateful for that, but it looked as if it was merely a short relief. He was coming for him and Richie would have to be ready to fight him.

"You going to be OK?" MacLeod sounded worried for him, which Richie did not like. Had they fought? Had Mac seen that this guy was a better fighter?

"I'll be fine." He replied with more confidence than he felt. "Besides, we don't know for sure that he'll find me."

"If you need any help just call me." Duncan told him. "I mean it Richie."

"I know you do." He smiled, grateful for his friend's concern. "I'll talk to you later Mac. Good bye."

"Someone wants your head I take it?" Dawn was staring at him, her face a stony and unreadable mask. He had almost forgotten she was in the room during his conversation with MacLeod, but now as he looked at her, he realized that should this guy show up, the challenge would not be as cut and dry as it had in the past. He had Dawn to think of, and that brought on a whole new level of worry.

"I fought him a few years ago," he supplied, wanting her to know both that there were no secrets between them, but also that he was not always the nice guy she thought he was. "I was…angry at the entire world and went around challenging as many immortals as I could. It was a combination of death wish and fury. Not a proud moment in my life, I'll admit. The immortal that wants to kill me…well, I challenged him and we never finished it. Guess he got tired of waiting."

"What will you do if he finds you?" Her voice was small and scared even. She had pulled away from him and had her hands clasped tightly in her lap. He hated that he had made her so tense, but knew that this would never stop. This was his life, and she would either get used to it or…

No, he wouldn't think about the 'or'. He liked her too much to contemplate it.

"I'll fight him Dawn." He told her honestly. "It's against the rules not to."

"The rules?" She echoed incredulously. "You'd get yourself killed over some lame rules?"

"It's how we live," he replied calmly, intently. "You know that."

"Yea, I know, but just because there are rules, doesn't mean you always have to follow them." She sounded childish, but she couldn't help it. She did not want to have Richie fight some immortal who could possibly kill him. Not when she had just found him. Even worse, what if Richie won? Could she still seem as the sweet, gentle, cute red head if she knew he had recently cut off a man's head? "Look at Buffy! How many rules has she broken?"

"That's different." He told her firmly. "I have to fight. It's what we do."

"Richie…"  
"I don't like it any better than you do," he cut her off before she could finish. "But I don't have any other choice. That's just the way it is."

"I don't want to talk about this." She told him, turning back to the TV, and un muting the film. She hit rewind without even looking at him. "Let's just watch the movie again."


	37. Why He Fights

Isabel spent the next few days researching the town of Sunnydale via the internet, and its history. Both her parents had warned her that the presence of vampires in Rome meant that Methos had already started whatever plan he had that would lead to her eventual destruction, not to mention the destruction of potentially everything around her. She needed to know if they were right, if they were telling her the truth. Before they died, she would have never doubted them, but now it was different. They were different and Isabel wasn't sure who she could trust anymore. It saddened her that she had to resort to finding the answers behind their backs, but she couldn't think of any other way.

She felt even guiltier the more she researched as it looked likelier and likelier that they were right about Methos and the coming evil. From her research she had gleaned that the town of Sunnydale had been situated on what was called a Hellmouth, or center of all evil. Isabel had always been good at hacking into computer systems, and she had managed to do just that to a mysterious law firm called Wolfram and Hart which somehow seemed to know more about demons and things that go bump in the night than Isabel could ever hope to know. It made her curious as to how she had never seen any proof of the existence of this other world until tonight, but then it had never really occurred to her to look for it. Now she had, and she was learning more and more about Hellmouths and finding it utterly fascinating as well as frightening.

The Sunnydale Hellmouth had somehow mysteriously been closed, but the evil was not gone. She had managed to do a search of all potentially active Hellmouths in the area, and found that Rome was indeed the new center of evil activity. Which could mean only one thing. Methos was here.

He had to be. Her parents had warned her that if she didn't find him soon, danger would follow and she hadn't taken action. She knew now she should have. She would have to search harder to try to find him, or the evil would only get worse. She couldn't seem to find anything in the Wolfram and Hart database about the Immortal Methos, but that only meant that he was cleverer than she thought. There was plenty on Sunnydale though, and even more on the supposed 'chosen one', which had been what Xander Harris had thought she was when they first met.

The 'chosen one' or slayer, she learned was a young girl who had been called to fight evil. Wolfram and Hart's records stated that there was only ever one at a time, but that an anomaly that had occurred during the present slayer's tenure in Sunnydale had caused there to be two active slayers, one of which they seemed to have a particular interest in because she had gone rogue and murdered a few people from Sunnydale to Los Angeles. Isabel found this incredibly intriguing and wondered how much Xander knew about these slayers.

Were they the friends he had spoken of? Was the girl he had lost the chosen one the Wolfram and Hart databases had alluded to? She hadn't been able to find out as much as she had wanted to. The law firm had some pretty unbreakable codes in their database where the important information was obviously hidden. It frustrated her that she couldn't break through those particular systems, but she shook it off in favour of running the conversation she last had with Xander through her head.

When she first met him he had asked her if she was the one they were looking for…the chosen one. That would support the theory that the slayer was the girl he had lost. From the hints she got about those in Sunnydale and the one or two times Xander Harris' name seemed to pop up in connection with news stories about weird phenomena that happened in the town, Isabel managed to determine that he was more than just a regular guy who happened to know about demons and wanted to help fight them.

Xander Harris was obviously a warrior and it looked as if he was on the side of good. That made her feel a lot better, as she had agonized over the idea of his potential affiliation with Methos. If her parents had been right about him, she would have had to deal with it, and that was one of the last things she wanted to do. There was something about him that drew her to him. Maybe it was because she had never really had any friends who could understand her. Xander likely knew about immortals if he knew about demons. She could tell him about Methos, maybe get him to help her find him. If he fought demons and vampires, surely he was on her side.

She knew she should tell her mother and father that, but for some reason didn't want to. She had already told them too much about Xander as it was. For some reason, she wished to keep him a secret. It was likely they would only push for her to keep her focus on finding Methos and forget any outside interference. They might not trust him. And they would certainly push harder to get her to accept more power from them, which she didn't want. She just wanted to be normal. But that would never happen. Failing that, her only destiny seemed to be to find Methos and to potentially sacrifice her life to make sure that he died. It had been acceptable to her before, as she never really had much to live for save her parents, but now she found the idea to be a frightening one.

The closer she got to finding him, the less she wanted to die herself. Maybe additional power would help her survive his quickening should she manage to take his head, but at what price? Was she willing to sacrifice what little humanity she had left in order to live a little longer?

These were questions she was sick of asking.

Grabbing her coat, she left place and headed to the diner that she and Xander had gone to the second time they met. She knew his phone number was on the underside of the chair, and had decided she needed to talk to him, in order to get some answers. She needed to be in front of him, face to face when he confirmed that he was indeed on her side. And she needed to ask him if he would be willing to help her locate Methos. If he was the center of this coming evil, then certainly they were on the same side. He had to agree to help her. She suddenly did not want to do any of this alone.

She was surprised to find he was already there when she arrived. He hadn't seen her come in yet, but she saw him, sitting at the same table they had been at before and staring out the window, deep in thought.

She almost turned around and left as a sudden bout of nerves suddenly hit her. She wasn't sure why, but the knowledge that he was a demon fighter with years of experience and possible connections to a powerful slayer made her hesitate.

She didn't have a chance to change her mind however, as he turned, noticed her and waved her over.

"Wasn't sure if you would actually come back here," he said as she reached the table and sat down. "But I'm glad you did."

"What made you think I might?" She wondered. "You don't even know me."

"No, I don't," he conceded, "but I'm guessing from the conversations we've had that you and I have a lot in common…including the fact that neither of us is very popular with humanity at the moment. I wouldn't mind having someone to talk to again that isn't trying to kill me. How 'bout you?"

"I…" she paused, unsure of how to deal with the flood of sudden relief she felt. Was this what it was like to have a friend? It was so new, and exciting, and at the same time utterly terrifying. "I've never really had someone to talk to other than my parents. I don't really know how to…"

"Hey, don't worry about it," he interrupted, sensing her distress. "There's no manual, and I've had my share of mistakes."

"You mean your friends from Sunnydale?" She spoke without even thinking, but realized her mistake when he stared at her suspiciously.

"Did I tell you the name of the town?"

"No," she admitted. "I looked it up. I needed to know more about your world. I mean, vampires are real! I had to know what else was out there."

"Stay out of that world," his voice was surprisingly harsh and abrupt. "It's dangerous."

"It's even more dangerous to walk through it completely blind," she shot back. "I did my reading. This is the new Hellmouth. That's why you're here isn't it? To stop whatever's coming?"

"I'm just here to fight," he said darkly, looking away for a moment. She felt her heart drop a little. Had she screwed up this friendship thing before it even began? Shaking her head, she pressed on. Friend or no, there were things she needed to know…things only he could tell her.

"What about the others? The slayer…your friends? I know they're here. They have to be."

"Why does it matter?" He asked angrily. "Why can't you just stay out of it?"

"Because I want to help," she said firmly. "The man that killed my parents might have something to do with it. If that's true, then I might have information you or your friends could use."

"Why would your parent's killer have something to do with the Hellmouth?" He was looking at her again, and she could tell she had his curiosity piqued. That was good. She took a deep breath.

"He's an immortal. They are a race of men that live forever, only dying if their heads are cut off by a sword. When that happens, they receive the quickening which is…"

"The power and strength of the immortal they've just killed," Xander finished for her.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised you know that," she said sheepishly. "What with fighting demons and vampires, you'd certainly know all about immortals."

"Actually I only found out a few months ago," he admitted. "But what does he have to do with the Hellmouth activity?"

"Methos? Well, according to my…sources, he is the reason behind it." She didn't want to tell him where the information came from. Although he believed and fought demons, vampires and other beasties, something inside her told her that telling him her parents were coming to her in ghost form was a bad idea, so she kept quiet. "I don't know why, or what he's after, but I owe him a grisly death for what he did to my parents. If you want to chip in on the beatings that's OK by me. Just thought I'd throw you a line, seeing as you seem to be in the thick of it already."

"You're thinking of fighting him?" His voice was incredulous and she forced her chin in a physical gesture of defiance. She wasn't sure why she felt so indignant that he would question her. After all, he didn't know about the strength she possessed and she certainly did not want him to. If he knew she was like the freaks he fought, who knows what would happen? She didn't want him as an enemy, even if she couldn't keep him as a friend.

"I have to," was all she could think to say. "He needs to die for what he did."

"He's immortal," Xander pointed out as if she were stupid. "You just said so. If that's true than the quickening…"

"Might kill me," she replied with a grimace. _Unless you take your parents' offer of power…_she told the voice in her head to shut up and refocused her attention on Xander. "I know that. But I don't have any other choice. He's the oldest living immortal and if he's stirring up big time Hellmouth trouble like what you guys faced in Sunnydale, then he can't be allowed to live."

"Don't give me the good guy speech," Xander said sarcastically. "You just want revenge."

"Maybe I do, so what?" She shot back angrily, eyes blazing. "What would you do to the person who took away the only people who ever meant a damn to you? Would you just let them go free?"

"No," Xander whispered as he was suddenly hit by a wave of self loathing. "I'd track them to the end of the earth….but I know what I'm doing. You don't."

"You think I care?" She asked.

"You should," he replied harshly. "You might think it's glamorous or exciting now, but if you get involved in this world there is no going back. You start wanting to help, but soon all you want to do is die and you can't even do that right. You lose those around you who matter the most. You can't even save them when they need you. Sound like fun Isabel? Still wanna find him?"

"Yes," she said firmly, though inside she was having doubts. "Whatever it takes. I have to pay him back for what he's done."

"You'll regret it." He muttered sadly. "Believe me."

"Maybe, but you can't stop me," She said firmly. "Will you help me find him or not?"

"I won't get my friends involved in this," he said with a firm shake of his head. "If you want to commit suicide, that's great…more power to you. I don't want to save the world anymore. All I want to do is fight one at a time until…"

"Until they kill you?" She interrupted. "Is that your grand mission? I guess all those reports I read about you were wrong."

"Those reports were about a guy who doesn't exist anymore." Xander replied as he stood up and put on his coat. "All that's left is me. I don't want to fight with you. If you want to talk again-about something other than demons and immortals, meet me here another night OK? I have to do one more patrol before I head back."

She nodded and watched as he left her sitting there, unsure of what to make of the person he now claimed to be. Why did she feel so confused? Why did she want to run after him and make sure he was all right?


	38. The Waiting Game

"I don't like this…" Buffy told Methos a week or so later. She was quickly becoming more and more uneasy about the entire situation. "We're in Rome to stop the First from pulling some major voo doo badness that has something to do with a slayer nobody can find. I don't like, it. Something feels off."

"Things are getting worse out there, aren't they?" Methos' voice was soft, but the words themselves hit home. Every night she went out to patrol she faced something bigger and badder, and nastier. Even if the First hadn't shown itself, the other demons that flocked to the Hellmouth in droves were feeding off the energy radiating from the center of it. And Buffy was fighting blind. In Sunnydale they had the advantage of at least knowing the exact physical location of the Hellmouth itself.

Here in Rome however, she hadn't managed to find it, and every night she was attacked in a different place while on patrol. She hadn't wanted Methos to accompany her, but it had gotten too dangerous for her to go out alone. She was a slayer, but she was still mortal, and the odds were becoming continuously more dangerous.

Methos was not a fighter by nature. She knew he much preferred the 'run and hide' scenario to her 'stand and kick ass' one. But he had also been a Watcher and she knew that part of him still was. He would fight if she asked him to, and at this point she had no other choice. She would not risk her sister or Richie in this sort of thing. Xander was already a lost cause and she prayed every night that he would return in one piece.

Looking over at the man who sat next to her, his hazel eyes deep in thought, she felt a warmth spread through her that she hadn't felt in a long time. He had been there. Every time she had needed him, no matter how badly she treated him, he had been there. Quiet and patient, waiting in the background for her to realize the depth of his feelings. She hated that it had taken her so long.

"Buffy?" His voice was soft and questioning. "Are you with me?"

"I am," she responded with a rueful chuckle. "Just…thinking. It's getting bad. Really bad. I don't know what to do. I want to call Giles, but I think he's just as lost as I am."

"What about the other girls?" Methos asked her. She grimaced a the line of conversation, but heard him out nonetheless. "We might need them soon. There are only two of us, and the demon population is growing by the day."

"Three if you count Xander," she said absently.

"I don't," Methos' tone was regretful, almost as if Xander were already dead. Buffy bit her lip and refused to think along those lines. "He's too dangerous to himself to be of any help now. We need more slayers."

"I don't want them here," she insisted.

"Do we have to have this conversation again?"

"It's not about me protecting them," she interrupted before they could launch into that familiar argument. "At least, not the way you think. Methos, I did this. That spell that called them, caused this to happen. If they fight it…what if it only makes it worse? What if I tip the balance even further? I can't risk it."

"You might not have any other choice." He took her hand, and softly kissed the palm of it. "I'm immortal, and older than any man out there, but even I can be killed. I hate to think that something might happen and I won't be here to…"

"I'm not like her Methos," she told him quietly. She was referring to the slayer that Methos had loved and lost back in his days with the slayer branch of the Watcher's council. "I'm not going to die that easily. And neither are you. You've made a lifetime out of it, haven't you?"

"Yeah, well eventually it will catch up with me," he warned her. "And when it does, I don't want to leave you without backup."

"What do you do when you're in too deep?" She asked him. He chuckled.

"Me? Well before I met MacLeod or you, I would run and hide," He shook his head. "Now, I guess I stand beside you…win or lose."

"You think I'm not doing the right thing, don't you?" She looked into his eyes, desperately looking for some clue as to how he was feeling, but like the ocean, his eyes remained deep and fathomless.

"Honestly? I don't know," he sighed and stood up. "I don't have all the answers. I never have. Wisdom does not come with age, no matter how much we wish it did."

"And here I thought you could give Yoda a run for his money," she teased, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"I'm a little taller than he is," he pointed out reasonably. "And hopefully a bit better looking."

"You are that," she said, moving towards him and taking his hands to pull him closer. She reached up to cup his face and draw him to her. He did without hesitation, kissing her deeply and soundly until she pulled back, a smile on her face.

"Are you doing this to change the subject?" He whispered, leaning in to kiss her neck softly, causing goosebumps to run up and down her arms. She ran her fingernails through his hair, as he did so, sighing with pleasure at the feelings he could create with his lips and tongue.

"Is it working?" She murmured breathlessly. He nipped her chin lightly in response and she found herself laughing at the merriment that twinkled in his eyes.

"You don't have to coerce me into something like this Buffy," he told her, his voice husky, "ever."

"I'll keep that in mind," she replied as she reluctantly pulled back from him. Much as she wanted to throw him down on the couch and explore every bit of the world's oldest man, they didn't have that luxury. She had lost another person on patrol the night before, and something had to be done. Somehow, some way, she had to find that slayer. "I keep thinking I should call Willow."

"You've called Willow three times this week," he pointed out patiently. "She hasn't found anything."

"Her headaches are getting worse," she confided. Willow hadn't told her as much, but she could hear on the phone how tired and weary Willow sounded, every time they spoke. All was not well in Brazil, and Buffy ached to go there and help her best friend, but her mission prevented it. This had been so much easier when they were all in Sunnydale, all working together.

"Any idea what's behind them?" He wondered. She could see the naked concern on his face, even though he had only met the red head once, and it touched her that he cared so much.

"The First, I'm almost certain of it," she replied, "but I can't figure out why. Maybe if we stopped looking for the slayer and tried to find the Hellmouth itself."

"I can give Joe a call later," he offered. "There might be something in the Watcher's databases that can help with that."

"Good idea," she agreed with a nod of her head. "Hey, by the way, where's Dawnie?"

"She left a little while ago," Methos replied.

"That's odd," Buffy murmured. "Richie said they had a date tonight."

"You think she's avoiding him?" He wondered. Buffy shrugged.

"Maybe, though I can't see why. They were starting to become really close." She sighed and took his hand, running her own fingers over his larger, longer ones. "Things are never easy aren't they?"

"If they were, that would take all the fun out of it," he replied with a slight smile. She laughed a little at that, and settled into the crook of his arm.

"We should patrol soon," she said as they sat there in silence. "It's getting late."

"How much longer do you think we can go on like this?" He asked, knowing that the question needed to be voiced, no matter what.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "Methos I love you. I do, but I don't have any answers. I'm just…stuck in this trying desperately to dig myself out of a hole I dug."

"You have to stop blaming yourself," he told her.

"I can't," she exclaimed in frustration. "It's part of me, part of how I work. If I stop caring about what happens to those people out there, then I'm no better than the demons I fight."

"And to think, you wanted nothing to do with this world when we met," he said with a shake of his head. She allowed herself a smile at the memory of first meeting him after killing Angel and leaving Sunnydale.

"I was a different person," she said sadly. "I still believed that everything would work out in the end. Life isn't like that."

"No," he agreed meeting her gaze and kissing her gently. "But sometimes things work out anyway."

"Did you really love me back then?" She asked him, needing to know that she still possessed whatever qualities that had originally drawn him to her in the first place. She needed to know that she wasn't just a killer.

"Yes," he told her and then chuckled, "and no. God, I hated how stubborn you were. And yet, I wouldn't change that for anything. You did what you had to Buffy and I know you will now too. You're still the same person. Don't ever think that you're not."

"Are you the same person?" She asked, wondering if she even wanted to know the answer. "After all these years, after all you've done."

"I'm still me," he said, so quietly she could barely hear him. "I was never a good man, Buffy. Just a man. Sometimes it's hard enough to be that."

"I think you're good," she told him, running a fingernail down his collarbone and into the neck of his sweater. They had an hour or so before the sun set. Right now, she just wanted to pretend that she was a normal girl, on the couch with her normal boyfriend. Right now, she just wanted to feel alive, before going out to face all that death. Methos seemed to sense it because he pulled her hand around his neck and leaned in to kiss her deeply.

"How good am I?" His voice was a throaty whisper between kisses.

"I don't know," she said back, "looks like we'll just have to run some tests and see."

Although they were still hesitant with their new relationship, Buffy was content to pull him to her and allow the next hour to be filled with his kisses, his touch and his voice like liquid velvet murmuring in her ear. She couldn't pretend the world did not exist, but she could allow herself to enjoy it for a little while.

They wouldn't be able to play the waiting game too much longer.

The first would soon make its move, and Buffy had a feeling that when it did, it would be like nothing she had ever faced before.


	39. What We've Lost

Isabel was more confused than ever. It had been almost a week since she had last spoken with Xander and every moment she spent alone, thinking about her supposed mission and her revenge left her wondering more and more why she was bothering at all. Killing Methos wouldn't bring her parents back to her the way they were, no matter how much she wanted that to be the case. And what if her parents were wrong about him being as evil as they said he was? Xander hadn't seemed too concerned when she mentioned Methos potentially doing to Rome what had been done to Sunnydale. And he had been right when he said that he had done this longer than she had. What if he was right? What if she was looking for the wrong things, for the wrong reasons?

More than ever she knew she wanted to find Xander and talk to him again. But every night she had shown up at their diner and he hadn't. She began to wonder whether he had ever planned on doing so again. He had seemed pretty angry when she brought up the possibility of facing Methos on her own. Maybe the skeletons in his closet were more powerful than she had imagined. Maybe she had driven him away for good.

She hated to think that might have been the case. She had never had a friend before, and the idea that she might have lost the first one she'd ever had because of Methos, infuriated her. He had already taken her parents, and she would be damned if she would allow him to take her first real friend.

She looked out the window and brightened considerably as she watched Xander's tall frame headed towards the diner. Trying not to smile, she looked down at her salad and picked at it, waiting for him to notice her and sit down.

"I didn't think I'd see you here." His voice was cautious as the chair scraped back and he sat down in front of her. She looked up and managed a small smile.

"I was hoping you would come back."

"I was hungry," he said with a shrug.

"Well whatever the reason, I'm glad." She said firmly. "I wanted to apologize. I tried to pull you into something that you obviously have your reasons for staying out of."

"Does this mean you've changed your mind?" He looked interested now, putting the menu down and gazing at her intently. It was her turn to shrug now, not wanting to tell him the truth, that she wasn't sure, but not wanting to lie to him about it either.

"I don't know," she finally said with a sigh. "To be honest, I just don't know."

"Yea, well you don't know what you're getting involved with Isabel." He sounded angry again and she hated that, but she had to make him understand. "I just can't see why you insist on killing yourself."

"Look who's talking," she shot back, unable to resist the bate. "Didn't you tell me that you've alienated your friends in this idiotic attempt to take on the vampires and demons of Rome all by yourself?"

"That's MY business," he muttered, looking for all the world as if he would get up and leave again at any second. Something inside of her screamed not to let him go, but she would not back down. She was right damn it, and she had to make him see.

"And my parents' death is mine," she insisted. "Why can't you see that? I'm not asking you for help anymore Xander. I don't care what you do. I just want to know that you understand."

"Understand a death wish you mean?"

"Are you determined to lose every friend you make?" She exclaimed. He looked surprised at that and waved the waitress that headed in their direction away for the time being.

"Is that what you would call me?" He asked her softly. "A friend?"

"I don't know," she admitted, suddenly more nervous and unsure than she had ever been. "I told you, I've never had a friend. I want you to be. I feel close to you. I can't explain it, but I do. But you don't seem to want to be close to anybody. I try to let you in, to tell you what matters to me and you push me away."

"I'm not interested in a friend that's determined to get herself killed."

"I know you lost someone," she said softly. Reaching out, she touched the side of his face lightly and trailed her touch all the way up to the patch over his eye. He stopped her hand as it went to remove it, but didn't let go. "I know you've lost a lot yourself. But I've lost everything and from what you've told me, you still have people who love you."

"You trying to tell me your life has been harder than mine? Because let me tell you that…"

"You want to play this game? You really want to go there Xander? Because I can guarantee you that you'll lose." She glared at him, and he glared back.

"You have no idea what's happened to me. No idea what I've gone through."

"I might if you'd tell me!" She shot back. "You think it's been so tough, so hard for you! If you've lost more than I have, it's only because you have more than I ever could! Don't you see that? I'm just trying to make you understand why this is important to me."

"Because this guy killed your parents," he said wearily. "I know."

"Do you have parents Xander?" She asked, then correcting herself before he could speak added, "alive, I mean."

"They're alive," he replied blithely. From the look on his face, she could tell that that fact wasn't one that mattered particularly much to him. Perhaps that was why he couldn't see why this mattered to her. "Where they are, or what they are doing I couldn't tell you. They blew town before Sunnydale sank. I can't be mad at 'em. I told them to leave. Of course, you'd think they'd drop their first born a post card when they get where they're going, but hey who's complaining?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, thinking how terribly lonely it must have been for him to grow up in a household like that. "But surely you had someone…someone to talk to, to laugh with…"

"I had Willow," he said simply. She felt her throat constrict at the love she heard in his tone and wondered why it bothered her that his feelings seemed to run so deep.

"Willow…" she trailed off, waiting for him to say more. When he didn't, she continued. "Is she the one who…is she the woman you lost?"

"What makes you think that?" He asked, averting his gaze. She forged ahead.

"You said you lost someone. I figured it was someone special. She sounds pretty special to you."

"She is," his voice was hoarse now and she wondered if he was fighting back tears. He still wouldn't look at her. "But she's not the one I lost. She…she's in Brazil right now. She and her girlfriend are looking for slayers. She sent us here actually to find one. But that's…" he waved his hand as if it didn't matter. "She's my best friend. She's always been my…she's been there for me when nobody else was. I just…I guess I miss her that's all."

"Who did you lose Xander?" Isabel wondered. "If not your best friend or your parents, then who?"

"My fiancé," he said finally. He looked up at her again and suddenly looked very tired and about ten years older. "Anya. We…we were supposed to get married, but I ran away like a damn coward. We were just finally getting back together…getting back to a place where we might have been able to…"

"I'm sorry," she told him and was surprised to discover that she meant it wholeheartedly. When had she began to care for him as much as she did right now? She was about to reach out to him, when his fist slamming down onto the table angrily made her jump and jostled her plate to the point where, if it hadn't been for her quick reflexes, would have fallen to the floor and broken.

"Damn it!" He hissed loudly. His face was alight with fury now and she swallowed slightly, realizing that it was her fault for making him tell her something so personal. "I should have been there. I should have saved her. Buffy split us up and when I went back to look for her…ten more seconds it was all I needed. I should've been there."

"You did all you could," she offered weakly. He sensed the empty platitudes and glared at her.

"Oh yeah? Well how the hell do you know? You weren't there."

"I know how I felt when Methos killed my parents," she shot back. "I was just as angry as you are, believe me. If I could have caught him…" she shook her head, hating that the memory of it had made her anger bubble to the surface as well. "The bastard ran. He claimed he didn't want to fight me….said he didn't want to kill. Ha! He didn't seem to mind killing two people, but he stops at three?"

"You would have lost." Xander told her patiently. She hated that he had so little faith. Part of her wanted to stand up and show him just how strong they had made her, just how powerful she truly was, but she didn't. It would only scare him. "Immortals are powerful. I know, believe me."

"What would you do Xander if somebody killed someone you loved right in front of you? If you'd been face to face with your fiance's killer? Or Willow…what if you watched someone hurt her? What would you do?"

"I'd…" he trailed off, realizing where this was going and smiled regretfully. "We're never going to agree on this Isabel. Why don't we just have dinner and keep the demon fighting in the 'things we don't talk about out loud' category…like Santa Claus, or Dad's drinking."

"I…" she paused and gazed at his wan expression. "You still want to talk to me?"

"You that hard up for a friend?" He joked feebly. "I mean, I'm no prize. Look at me…even Long John Silver carried the eye patch with more grace."

"I think it makes you unique," she said with a genuine smile for the first time that night. "And I would be honoured to be your friend."

"And to think in high school they wouldn't come anywhere near me," he chuckled softly to himself. "All right, but I can't think for the life of me what we're going to talk about. I mean, demon fighting is all I do. It's all I've been doing ever since…"

She knew what he had been about to say and nodded empathetically. Finding Methos had been all she had done, all she had been about ever since her parent's death. She wasn't sure she knew how to care about anything else, and from the look on his face, she could tell he shared the same worry.

"Let's start with ordering pie," she suggested. "Then I'll tell you what my favourite American movie is and we'll go from there."

"Sounds good to me," he said softly, and smiled with real warmth.


	40. Just Take My Hand

Willow was getting close. She had never been more sure of anything else in her life. The answer to everything was within her grasp, she could feel it. She had been practicing with the coven every night, trying to break through the mystical barrier that existed between her and the answers they sought. The First had constructed one hell of a wall and Willow was not blind to the consequences.

Every time she tried, the headaches got worse. The last time the coven had attempted it had caused Willow to be out of commission for over a week, and the rest of the coven to declare her attempts impossible. If the most powerful Wicca in the western hemisphere could not break through with the help of the most powerful coven there was, then clearly they thought it impossible.

Kennedy had begged her to stop after the last attempt, to leave it to Buffy, Giles and the rest of the Watchers. Surely the answer and the slayer could be found some other way.

But Willow wouldn't listen…not to the coven, and not to Kennedy. She needed to help and she wouldn't stop until she either broke through or died in the attempt. She knew if she told Buffy the truth of how dangerous it was becoming for her to continue attempting it, that she would tell Willow to stop at all costs. It wasn't worth her life to Buffy. But Willow knew better than that. If Buffy was in her position she would not stop, regardless of the cost to herself. And Willow had gone through too much to leave Buffy in the lurch.

The coven had refused to help in the endeavor, so Willow had stolen away early in the morning and taken the supplies needed for the spell. She knew it was doubly dangerous to attempt it on her own, but she had no other choice. She hadn't even told Kennedy. She would only try to stop her if she knew.

She set up quickly, hoping that the smell of the herbs and incense would not awake her girlfriend who slept soundly in the next room. One of the members of the coven had been kind enough to allow Willow and Kennedy to stay with them and since they stayed in the same room generally, there had been no need for the second guest room to be used.

Until now.

As she finally finished setting up for the spell, she sat herself in place and began the preliminary meditation to prepare her for the mental undertaking ahead. She knew this was her last chance. She would either be victorious or she would die. It was almost simple enough to be comforting. And she might be comforted if she weren't so terrified.

She tried to meditate as the spell required but found herself unable to relax as was. If this was to be her last attempt to do good on this earth, there was someone she needed to talk to first.

Tiptoeing to the door that adjoined the two rooms, she snuck a peak inside the room where she and Kennedy slept and was relieved to find her girlfriend fast asleep. Sighing gratefully, she took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Adam Pierson's phone number.

Dawn answered it on the second ring. She sounded out of breath and more than a little anxious. Willow instantly wondered if everything was all right and voiced her concern out loud.

"I'm fine," Dawn assured her, and her voice did sound relieved. "I just thought you might have been someone else." She said no more on the subject, so Willow cut right to the chase.

"Is…is Xander there? I need to talk to him."

"I'll check," Dawn replied, though the tone in her voice suggested to Willow that the estrangement that he had created between himself and the others had not changed. Nevertheless, she was in luck. Within moments, Xander had picked up the phone.

"Hello?" His voice sounded less gruff than it had the last time they spoke and that gave Willow some cause to hope.

"It's me Xander," her voice was soft and tentative…as if the years of friendship were all just a dream and he was once more a stranger that made her nervous to speak to. Xander must have sensed her discomfort because his voice grew slightly warmer.

"Hey Will," she could almost see the small smile on his face. "Good to hear your voice."

"Yeah, I've missed hearing yours," she replied. They endured an awkward silence as Willow realized she wasn't quite sure what she wanted to say to him. She had called, wanting to say her good byes just in case, but she knew if she told him out right what she was planning he would tell Buffy and they would try to stop her. She couldn't have that. And yet, she needed him to know how much she loved him, how much she would always love him even if she no longer walked this earth.

"You ah….you want Buffy?" Xander was asking, clearly unsure of himself as well. "I mean, did you have some information on the First for her?"

"No, this isn't about that," she insisted. Then in a softer tone asked, "are you OK Xander? Last time we talked you were…distant."

"I'm as good as I'll ever be Will," his voice sounded weary of discussing the topic. "I wish everyone would stop worrying about me."

"We love you Xander," she told him simply. "I love you. You can't ask me not to. You know better than that."

"I love that you care, but this is my problem," he replied firmly.

"What hurts you hurts me," she argued. "And that's that. You can't see me right now, but I've got my resolved face on."

"I kinda figured," he said with a small chuckle that warmed her. He wasn't entirely frozen and that reassured her. But how would he react if she died? Would that complete his destruction? They had hardly been parted from childhood until now. Never one without the other. He was her other half in ways far deeper than romantic love. He was her Xander. "I'll be OK Will, believe that. Just…trust me OK?"

He sounded more sure of himself in that last statement and she let out a short breath she'd been holding.

"I don't want to nag you Xander, but…" she trailed off, not knowing how to voice what she was feeling. "I love you. I always will and you can't expect me not to worry. And you can't expect to fool me. I know you still miss her."

"Every damn day," he said raggedly and she heard his throat catch. She felt so honoured that he would confess his feelings to her, and wondered what had brought about the change. Last she had heard from Buffy he was more removed than ever. What had changed all that? "But…I'm learning how to deal with it."

"I guess I just wanted you to know that I care," she told him feebly. She wanted desperately to tell him they might never speak again, but knew she couldn't. "I just called to tell you that…"

"Will?" His voice held a note of concern now, and she knew she'd gone too far. "Are you OK? I mean, I get the feeling this call is about more than my own well being."

"I'm fine," she said quickly…a little too quickly. She knew he would catch it. She always sucked at lying, especially to him. "I mean, I will be. I'm on the verge of something. I just…I needed to tell someone. And I missed hearing your voice."

"Are you sure that's all?" He was still suspicious and she swallowed heavily, realizing he might never forgive her for not confiding everything to him if something were to happen to her. It was a chance she'd have to take.

"That's all, scout's honour," she said with false bravado. "I should get going. Kennedy's gonna be up soon and I promised to make pancakes."

"Bit early to be burning the place down isn't it?" he joked. She smiled, glad to hear him teasing her. If it was the last thing she ever heard him say it couldn't make her happier.

"That was one time," she retorted. "And Kennedy likes my pancakes."

"I'll bet," she could hear the twinkle of his eye through the phone and it gave her all the courage she needed.

"Good bye Xander," she whispered. "I do love you."

And then she hung up and found herself looking into the accusatory gaze of her girlfriend.

"What was that?" Kennedy demanded. Anger was visible in her sharp brown eyes and Willow knew that she wouldn't be able to lie very well to her. She tried anyways.

"I meant it as a friend," she explained pretending she thought Kennedy might be jealous though she knew full well that wasn't the case. "I don't love him love him…you know that."

"That wasn't a declaration of love. That was a good bye." Kennedy replied flatly. "A forever-type good bye, and the only reason you would have for one of those would be…"

She trailed off as she glanced around the room and took in the set up for the spell that Willow had so carefully prepared. Her jaw set in a hard line and Willow knew she would have a very difficult time persuading her to let her go through with it.

"Kennedy, I have to do this," she said softly.

"Kill yourself?" Kennedy shot back. "Cause that's what's going to happen here and you know it!"

"I was so close last time, so close!" Willow cried back. "I could've broken through I just needed five more minutes!"

"You'd have been comatose in five minutes, maybe worse and you know it!" Kennedy was near tears now and Willow longed to kiss them away, but held her ground.

"Buffy needs this," she said simply. "I can't let her down."

"You care more about her than your own life?" Her voice was a terrified whisper that almost killed Willow's resolve completely. Kennedy was always so strong, so passionate that it was heartbreaking to see her so vulnerable and be the cause of it.

"I care about the mission," she said firmly, but with tenderness to show she wasn't immune to Kennedy's pleading eyes.

"To hell with the mission!" Kennedy blazed furiously. She crossed the room and grabbed hold of Willow pulling her into a violent and demanding kiss. "I love you! I don't want to lose you!"

"I…" Willow was flushed and overcome with sensation. Never had Kennedy been so upright, so forthcoming in her own feelings. They'd exchanged endearments of the kind before, but never had she really seen how much Kennedy meant it, to the depths of her being, and it frightened Willow in more ways than one. Kennedy loved her deeply, so deeply that Willow was afraid she did not have enough love to return to her. Her ability to love that deeply had been for two people that had come before her. One had left to protect her from him, and the other had died almost transforming her into a monster. She had remained guarded in her emotions ever since, unsure of what feeling so deeply again would do not only the memories of Oz and Tara, but also to her own sanity.

"I'm sorry." It was a lame statement and they both knew it.

"Don't," Kennedy said coldly. "Don't you dare tell me you're sorry. I don't believe you."

"Do you believe I want to die?" Willow cried back. "I don't Kennedy I swear to you."

"If you die, you might see her again," Kennedy's voice was so soft she could barely hear it. "Are you sure you don't just want to find her again? She's waiting for you, I'm almost certain of it."

"Kennedy," Willow's whisper was caught on her own emotion as she cupped her girlfriend's face with her hands. "I don't want to leave you or this world, not now and not any time in the future if I can help it, I promise you. But I need to help Buffy any way I can. If you want to keep me here, then help me. Be my anchor to the world of the living so that I can travel into the world of the dead. The answer is there, I know it is. Help me Kennedy…help save me like you did before."

"No fair," Kennedy said with a weak chuckle. "You know I can't resist you when you cry."

To Willow's surprise, Kennedy reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek that she hadn't even realized had escaped her. Kissing her gently, she knew she had convinced her, but did not feel any victory in the fact. If she did die, Kennedy would grieve bitterly and she did not want to put her through that for anything. But there was no other choice.

She drew a shuddered breath and squared her shoulders, her eyes never leaving her girlfriend's.

"I will do this," she promised with more confidence than she felt. "Just keep me here, and I won't ever leave."

"How?" Kennedy asked, desperation etched in her face. Willow smiled sadly and took her hand in hers.

"Just hold my hand," she said raggedly. "And don't ever let go."

"Never," Kennedy murmured as she took her place next to her in the circle. "I swear it."


	41. Seeking Answers

She was going to die. She never should have tried to connect in the first place. The First had been waiting for her and was far more prepared. Willow was too weak and it was far too strong. It knew she was coming. And it was tearing her apart.

Kennedy clung to her hand fiercely and Willow was only dimly aware of her weeping. She knew that she was desperately trying to keep her on that plane, but it was only a matter of time before Willow would be ripped apart completely. And she welcomed death for it was far preferable to the agony that tore through every single inch of her.

She cried out inhumanly as she felt the full force of the First's power, undiluted by anything save a corporeal existence. And that would come in time, for without her in the way, it would achieve its aim without a hitch. The slayer was the key and with Willow dead, it would have enough power to overtake her, to force the First's power into her whether she liked it or not. And somehow, though she didn't even know the girl, Willow knew she didn't want it. She knew she was strong enough to resist it. It gave her some hope that maybe all was not lost after all.

Pain ripped through her again in undulations stronger than anything she had ever endured before. She could no longer scream for she hadn't the vocal power to do it. She had to get to the door at the end of the tunnel. The answer was in there – the name of the slayer they needed - she knew it. But every step was agony and she had been wounded to start with.

One step…then another…pain beyond comprehension, yet still she pressed on only dimly aware of the blood that poured from the hand that Kennedy still gripped fiercely.

Another step.

More pain.

Another step.

Agony.

She felt the cuts in her flesh so deep blood poured from the wounds freely, like water from a tap and yet she kept going. She wouldn't stop. Not till she reached that door.

And suddenly she saw her. An angel whose beauty Willow had never forgotten. Whose beauty had almost driven her mad, and yet now it stood in front of her, ready to lead her to the answers she needed. Wind tore through her and the pain grew stronger but this time Willow hardly felt it. She could only stare in wonder. Had she been this beautiful in life? Had anything ever been so precious to her?

"Tara…" her voice barely existed, but it was enough to bring tears to her beloved's eyes. "Is it…oh tell me you're real and not a trick from the First."

"I'm real," she breathed, her own voice wondrous and awed. "I felt you calling me and I knew I had to come….to save you."

"You…you heard me…?" She swallowed back the tears that threatened never to stop. "I…I didn't know you could see me…didn't know…."

"I've never left you," Tara whispered passionately. "I've watched you every moment…missed you every second. Even in paradise I've needed you."

"Have you come to…" she trailed off nervously, then forged ahead, ignoring the agony that had renewed itself tenfold. "Am I already dead? Are you coming to take me to…to heaven?"

"No," Tara's sadness was palpable in that whisper. "You're not going to die Willow. I want to be with you again more than you will ever know, but I can't let you die. Not yet. She needs you."

And suddenly Willow felt Kennedy still clutching her hand, still fighting fiercely not to lose her. Guilt swept through her. Tara had never left her, not even in death, but Willow had moved on and she couldn't hide it from her. She couldn't hide anything from her.

"I'm so sorry Tara," Willow exclaimed reaching out but unable to touch her. "I…I didn't know. I shouldn't have…I didn't deserve you."

"Don't you dare apologize!" Tara ordered angrily. Willow shrank back, surprised at the vehemence in her tone. "You've moved on. I wanted that for you. I wanted that more than anything. It means you're healing…and you're happy. And more than anything I want to see you happy. It's my greatest joy Willow. You have given me so much, even in death. Don't be sorry for that. Don't ever be sorry for that."

"I…" she allowed her tears to cascade in earnest and was shocked to find herself crying tears of blood. "I love you Tara. And I miss you every second. I've moved on, and I am happy. But I'll never not miss you….and I'll never not love you. You need to know that."

"I know," Tara breathed as she leaned closer and kissed Willow's tears away. "It was your love for me that brought me here. You don't have enough strength to get to that door. Not alone. But your love reached me and allowed me to come to you. It is allowing Kennedy to hold you to the Earth plain. Together we can do this. All three of us and I will always be grateful to her. Will you…will you tell her that?"

"I will," Willow vowed. Tara nodded and smiled holding her hand towards hers.

"Take my hand Willow," she told her. "And let me do the rest."

"Will you…" Willow touched her face reverently, trying to get the words out through her tears. "Will you kiss me first? Kiss me good bye?"

Tara didn't answer her, but her leaning forward and capturing Willow's lips tenderly was all the answer Willow needed. She pulled her close, and suddenly there was no pain in the world to equal this pleasure. No pain that could destroy her as long as they were together like this. She wanted to stay there forever, arms entwined, lips gently exploring, saying their farewells. But she knew they couldn't.

Soon the First would find a way to expel Tara from this place and they needed to reach the door before that could happen. Breaking apart, she took her hand and allowed Tara to endure the pain necessary to lead Willow to the doorway. As she stood in front of it, Tara began to fade from view and Willow knew there was little time left. She had to go through it before Tara disappeared completely, but something in her held back.

"Go Willow!" Tara cried desperately. "I can't hold on much longer!"

"I don't want to leave you," she sobbed. "I don't want to ever leave you!"

"And you never will," Tara assured her. "I'm always here, always with you always loving you. Don't ever think I'm not. She needs you Willow. She can't hold on much longer. Live for me. Live and love and know that it makes me happy. I love you. Now go."

Willow nodded, knowing she was right and opened the door. She took one last look at the woman that she had lost, and knew that she was finally able to move on…with her blessing.

"Thank you," she whispered as she walked through it and onto the other side. She had made it. It was going to be OK.

* * *

Giles sat down in front of the fireplace at the Watcher's Council Headquarters with a cup of hot cocoa in his hand that he had been thinking about enjoying all day. He was beginning to think he was fast becoming far too old to be training young slayers. He had been working with some of the more experienced girls that day and he felt it in his bones. He had bruises in places he didn't even know he had. Luckily Duncan MacLeod and his companion Amanda Darieux had offered to come to London for a few weeks of intensive sword training. His correspondence with Joe Dawson had become close enough that he trusted the other man's judgment when it came to who he could tell about the slayer branch of the Council. Since both immortals already knew of the immortal branch of the Council it seemed like the next logical step and it was no secret that they were desperately in need of more Watchers. More slayers arrived every day and the amount of Watchers they had became fewer and fewer.

Some were Watchers left over from the previous Council who had been on assignment when the building exploded. Some were Watchers who had been going through the academy at the time of the explosion. Though they hadn't finished, Giles had taken the responsibility of promoting them to full Watcher status to help handle the influx of slayers. Joe had promised help from the immortal branch as soon as he could spare it and true to his word had called Giles earlier in the day to inform him when Duncan and Amanda would be arriving.

Giles couldn't help but be curious about the two of them. Buffy had told him a little about Duncan MacLeod on the flight to Paris, but he knew next to nothing about Amanda, save for that she was around 1000 years old and had been a thief for most of her existence. Joe had assured him that she was reformed however, and because of the relative poverty of the new Council there was very little of actual value to steal. He was looking forward to meeting both of them, and hearing their stories. He suspected Faith, Andrew and Robin were anxious as well. They had had very little contact with the immortal branch, but had heard many rumours.

A knock at the door brought him out of his reverie and Giles sighed with resignation. He should have known better than to try to get more than ten minutes to himself in this place. There was always someone or something that demanded his attention, that forced him to keep going and to keep being Giles, the omnipresent know-it-all. He shook his head and smiled in irony as he thought of the days he spent after Buffy left for college, feeling useless and outdated and longing for purpose once more. Then, he would have given anything to have his duties as Watcher returned to him. It was all he knew, and the fact that Buffy had no longer needed him bothered him greatly. Now, he kicked himself for not cherishing that time a little better. It was one thing to have your days and nights occupied by one slayer. It was quite another to have them occupied by twenty and he would give anything to have those days of leisure back once more, purpose be damned.

He looked to the door and was surprised to see Faith enter. He had expected one of the young girls he had been training today to be out there with some sort of problem or another as was par for the course lately. He relaxed a little, realizing he didn't have to play 'authority figure' Giles in front of her and motioned for her to sit.

"Whatcha got there…scotch?" She pointed to the cup he still held with both hands, poised to take a sip.

"Ran out," he replied with a small smile. He gestured to the pot of cocoa that sat on the table beside his chair. There was still a cup or so left. "Would you like some Cocoa instead?"

"Little too tame for me gramps," Faith quipped, "but thanks anyway."

"Can I help you with something?" He asked her, a small note of friendly annoyance in his tone. At first he had been hesitant about allowing Faith to take on such a large responsibility as Watcher to so many other young girls, but the battle against the First and the resulting days afterwards had shown him that she was a far different woman than the young girl he had met when she was first called to Sunnydale. She was more than just reformed, she was strong, intelligent and capable. She seemed not only repentant, but determined to put herself to good use, taking on more than even he would have thought she could handle. In the time they had spent working with the other young girls, Giles had come to respect her greatly and even like her. He had always seen something within her, that if nurtured correctly could become a great good to society and he had been proven right in his assumption.

Faith, to her credit, did not seem to take her position of trust and authority for granted. She knew that trust was not a gift given lightly and had worked hard every day to earn it. There was a bond between them that hadn't been there before and she knew that though she might not deserve it, she would work as hard as she could to earn it.

Giles was staring at her expectantly and she shook the thoughts from her head and concentrated on the matter at hand. She had some disturbing news for him, so much so that she had hoped that the cup he had in his hand contained some sort of stiff drink as what she was about to tell him meant that he would likely need it.

"I just got a call from Kennedy," she began carefully. She didn't want to upset him more than she had to. "It was about Willow."

"Willow?" Giles echoed. His eyes met hers in full alertness She had his attention now. "What happened? Is she all right?"

"She uh…" Faith cleared her throat but pressed on. "She tried that spell that she was working on."

"The one the Coven told her was too dangerous?" His voice sounded worried now and Faith felt even worse about what she had to tell him. "The one that was giving her the headaches?"

"Yeah well, you know how often Red listens to advice on magic." Hr voice was a little more caustic than she intended it, but part of her was angry at Willow for forcing her to give this news to Giles after the difficult day of training that they'd had. She sighed.

"Is she…" Giles couldn't complete the sentence but Faith knew what he was asking and shook her head slightly. He relaxed visibly, realizing that if Willow were dead he would have taken the phone call personally rather than have Faith sent to bring him the news.

"She's in a mystical coma," Faith said quickly, hoping that delivering the news quickly would have the same effect as swiftly ripping off a band-aid. The raw worry in Giles' eyes told her otherwise. "Kennedy says that she'll be OK. She'll come out of it soon, but she won't be able to do magic for a while. That means finding slayers as well."

"I'm not worried about that," Giles murmured. Faith knew he wouldn't be, but she still had to tell him.

"There's more," she continued, knowing that this would only add to his worries but also that there was no other choice. "Angel's office called earlier. I guess there's something wrong with Fred. They need Willow's help…a spell of some kind. I know she can't help them. I don't know what you want me to tell them though. I mean...Wolfram and Hart. They're pretty bad news. I speak from experience. Do you think they should know anything about what we're doing here?"

Giles looked seriously at her for a moment before speaking.

"Do you truly think Angel may have become a danger to us?" He knew that her opinion on Angel was worth a lot. She had been the one to save him from himself when he had returned to Angelus the second time. She had been willing to sacrifice her own life to bring Angel back, so Giles knew there was nothing she wouldn't do to keep Angel on the side of good. If there was any chance that he was no longer on that side, Faith would know.

"No," she replied with a shake of her head. "If Angel had gone bad ass, Wes would've called me. I just think they might be in over their head, y'know? I mean they can't keep their eye on everyone in their company. One big bad hears that Willow's out of commission for a while and we might have another apocalypse to deal with on top of the one we're working on."

"I see," Giles said with a nod and he did. He had been worried about Angel's involvement with the law firm ever since he had received Andrew's report on the mentally damaged slayer he had sent him to find. This could only confirm his reservations. "Call them back and tell them Willow is on assignment for us…another astral plane. She can't help them anyway, so it doesn't hurt to keep the true reason for it secret."

"Gotcha," Faith replied, though Giles could tell there was still something bothering her.

"Faith?" He looked questioningly at her and she sighed knowing that she couldn't hide her apprehensions from him.

"The chick in trouble…Fred…I just feel bad," she shrugged helplessly. "I've met her y'know? And from what I hear it's pretty bad…whatever it is. They really do need Red's help."

"And no doubt she would help if she were able to," Giles replied with a regretful sigh. "Sadly we are stretched terribly thin as it is. What Willow did for us was for the good of the world. I know it's a painfully utilitarian view, but it's all we have. Hopefully this isn't too terribly serious and they are able to find aid elsewhere."

"Yeah I know," she replied with a halfhearted smile. "I'll get Andrew to call and tell them Willow can't make it. I'm gonna hit the sack. I'm pretty wiped."

"Yes," Giles murmured, "I'm…err…wiped as well. Good night Faith."

"Night G," she said with an easiness she didn't feel. "You ever want to spice up that cocoa let me know and I'll join you."

"Yes," Giles replied with a wan smile. "You'll be the first one I ask."

Faith nodded and left the room as Giles took one final sip of his cocoa and began to gather up the cup, tray and saucers. He was more than exhausted and his conversation with Faith had only added to that.

Shaking his head and trying to ignore the worry he felt for Willow, he shut the light off and closed the door to the study.

"Willow," he said quietly to himself as he padded slowly up the stairs towards his room. "Will you ever learn?"


	42. First Test

The house was quiet as Richie entered, letting him know that nobody was home. He hadn't gotten up that morning when the others left for an unplanned shopping trip and was surprised that Xander had actually agreed to go with them. He didn't think Xander had spoken more than four sentences to any of them in longer than he could remember. Richie wasn't any psychological expert, but he figured that was progress. Either way, he was glad of the quiet.

He should have felt guilty for being grateful that Dawn wasn't home, but ever since the phone call from Duncan weeks back, things between them had been tense and awkward. Richie knew that it was only a matter of time before the immortal hunting him found him, and he wasn't sure just what would happen between him and Dawn (provided he survived) once he did.

Dawn had appeared to enter into their relationship with open eyes. Richie hadn't figured she would have too much trouble adjusting to his lifestyle, given what she was used to. She had even told him she understood what the Game meant in terms of immortals. He thought he had finally found someone who he could share it all with – the good and the bad.

But the moment he received that phone call, her entire demeanor had changed. He couldn't really blame her. It was one thing to understand the Game on an academic level. It was another entirely to watch somebody you care for go up against something that could very well kill him for what seemed like no good reason. He understood Dawn's fear, he did. She watched her sister go up against death like that night after night. The only consolation she had in that was that Buffy's fights were for the good of the world. They were not only right, they were necessary.

There was nothing right or necessary about the Game. Richie had detested it from the moment he discovered his immorality. The only time he had ever taken comfort in the Game was when it seemed as if everything he knew and trusted had all been a lie. When his teacher, friend and mentor had tried to kill him. It had taught him that the Game was nothing more than a contest and you could only win it by looking out for yourself and nobody else.

He had made a lot of mistakes during that time in his life, to say nothing for the string of enemies that seemed to still pop out of the woodwork as a result of the things he had done. He regretted those actions every single second of every day because they were the actions of a rash, angry child, desperate for something to cling to when his world had fallen apart. And now they were coming back to haunt him, and Dawn as well.

He knew he should put an end to their relationship. She had enough to deal with, without worrying about where his next challenge might come from. He knew it would be best for all concerned if he just told her it was over and went back to Paris to fight his own battles and live his own life. He was only endangering her and himself by staying with her.

But he so desperately didn't want to leave. He cared about her more than he ever could have imagined he would. He was pretty sure that he loved her, though he hadn't said the words out loud. And if you loved someone you should do what was best for them. The best thing he could do was leave.

But he was a coward. He knew that if he stayed the same thing that happened to Tessa could happen to Dawn. Hell, Tessa hadn't even been killed by an immortal. She'd died a random, pointless death. The situation he was in with Dawn was ten times more dangerous. Add an immortal hunting him to the mix and the choice should have been obvious.

But it was much more complicated than that, and Richie desperately wanted to stay.

He knew Dawn wanted him too as well, despite the awkwardness of their relationship lately. He wanted to apologise, to tell her that if this guy did find them that he wouldn't fight. He'd just walk away, but he couldn't. It just wasn't possible for an immortal to do so. Not unless he lived perpetually on Holy Ground and Richie didn't fancy joining a monastery.

Dawn was unsure and afraid. She knew any day now that he would face a challenge from an unknown assailant. It was no wonder she'd been cool towards him. Richie just wished he could assure her that he would come out on top, that she wouldn't have to lose him. That it would all turn out OK. But those kind of assurances were for children and they were both adults. Neither of them could afford to wear a blindfold of ignorance. Not now.

But he'd stay here because he wasn't strong enough to leave. He just hoped that Dawn didn't end up hating him after all was said and done. He wasn't sure he could handle it if she did.

Either way, he needed to talk to her. They needed to sort this out, to come to some kind of understanding. He was about to call Dawn's cell phone and see if their shopping trip was over, when Methos' phone rang, startling him.

"Adam Pierson's residence," he answered absently.

"I'm looking to speak to Richard Ryan." The voice on the other end of the receiver was chillingly familiar. It was Karkose and he had found him. He cursed his luck. It looked like he wouldn't get the chance to sort things out with Dawn before he did have to answer a formal challenge. And if he died, well…

"I'm sorry, there's nobody here by that name," he hoped he sounded confident, but the cold chuckle on the other end told him it was not the case.

"You're lying Richard," he said. "Surely you haven't forgotten your old friend…remember? From the bar in San Francisco? We were so rudely interrupted."

"What the hell do you want Karkose?" Richie's composure slipped and anger laced his tone. It had been years since that had happened. Why couldn't the bastard just forget?

"What do you think I want?" The voice was all business now. "I want to finish what we started. I want your head."

"Look, I was going through a lot at the time." He didn't think explaining the circumstances would help, but it was worth a shot. "I wasn't thinking when I made those challenges. There's no reason we have to do this. I haven't hurt anybody you care about. We can walk away here…no hard feelings. What do you say?"

"I say you're a coward," Karkose replied, his voice a silky growl. "You promised me a fight. I want to collect."

"Like I said, I wasn't in my right mind," he continued. "I don't want to fight you. I don't want your quickening. Do you really want to risk both our lives over something this stupid?"

"But it isn't stupid," Karkose told him. "It's what we're here for. There can be only one, remember? I intend to be that one. And you and I have unfinished business. I know where you live, so don't even try to run. Meet me tomorrow night, at the Café Roma. We'll find a place then. If you don't show, I come to your house. And I will kill whoever gets in my way, do you understand?"

"I understand," Richie said heavily. He knew now there was no avoiding this man. "I'll be there."

As he hung up the phone, the key turned in the door, and Buffy, Xander, Methos and Dawn all walked in, setting down their purchases in the midst of their conversation.

When Dawn's gaze finally met Richie's she knew that something was very wrong.

"Richie…what is it?"

"I…" he swallowed heavily. "We need to talk. Want to go for a walk or something?"  
Dawn nodded and waited for him to get his coat.

Dawn's heart was heavy as they walked down the darkened street. Things hadn't been particularly easy between her and Richie lately, and by the look on his face, she had a feeling they weren't about to get any easier.

She knew that this immortal that Duncan had called him about would find them sooner or later. She knew, and so she'd been distancing herself from Richie and the relationship as a defense mechanism. She was already so close to him, already cared about him so much. What would happen if he lost? Could she cope with losing him after they had grown so close? After she had started to love someone for the very first time?

Buffy had lost Angel when she was her age. Dawn couldn't imagine how she had coped with it. The very idea of something happening to Richie caused her entire being to grow cold with fear. She suddenly had a lot more respect for her older sister and the way she had coped with the various losses in her life. Certainly Dawn wasn't handling things as well as she had.

Like now. Instead of opening the lines of communication between her and Richie, she walked beside him in strained silence, waiting for him to make the first move…desperate to hear that things would be OK between them, yet knowing that the first real test of their feelings was about to begin.

It was the first test Dawn wasn't entirely sure she could pass.

"It's quiet out here," Richie's voice was low and unsure. Dawn knew he was working his way into the conversation, but didn't want to make it that easy for him. She simply nodded her agreement and kept walking. "No demons, monsters…"

"You that eager for a fight?" She hadn't meant to blurt those words out loud, but it seemed that her inner voice had a mind of its own. She instantly regretted it, but it was too late to take it back now.

"That's not fair," he said turning to look at her. "I'm trying to talk to you, Dawn. Without attacks or fighting."

"I'm sorry," she told him honestly, "but I know you're going to tell me that you've decided to fight this immortal that's coming for you. I don't really know how not to be defensive about that."

"You knew what I was when we got involved." He hated the idea of giving her the 'you knew this would happen' speech, but he had to make her understand. If she had never really thought it would come to this, then maybe they hadn't been as open with each other from the start.

"That supposed to make it easier?" She replied softly. "Besides, I might have known it, but I've never seen it you know? I guess that's no excuse, but it's the only way I can think to describe it."

"Out of sight, out of mind?" He smiled wryly. "I guess we were both playing that game. I thought if I could ignore it, it would go away. I should have known it wasn't possible. Mac has been trying to stay out of the game forever. Hell, not even the old…Adam can avoid it completely. I didn't want a possibility to come between us, so I didn't really press the seriousness so of it. But it's more than a possibility now. He…Karkose called me just before you got home. The challenge is set, Dawn. I can't back out. I have to fight him."

Her throat went dry and she fought to keep her hands from trembling. She would not let him see how much this bothered her. If this relationship was going to work, she had to make him think she was OK with it. If he thought she couldn't handle it…somehow the thought of him leaving her of his own volition was worse than the idea that something might happen to him in a fight.

"When?" she finally managed to ask him.

"Tomorrow night." Richie's voice was laced with noticeable regret. He sounded more concerned for her feelings on it than the fact that he could very well die tomorrow. She wondered if it was overconfidence on his part or if he was good enough that he really didn't have to worry. She wasn't sure which idea was worse. Overconfidence could get him killed, but if he really was that good…it would mean he was a killer in a larger sense than she had originally thought.

She shook those thoughts away for the moment and concentrated on what Richie had just told her. Tomorrow night he was fighting this guy. Tomorrow night he was going up against another immortal in a fight to the death. Tomorrow night, Richie could die.

She wasn't ready for this.

"Dawn?" His voice was questioning and gentle. His eyes were worried and Dawn suddenly hated herself for causing him uncertainty about her feelings when he was the one who might die tomorrow. She swallowed hard and turned to face him.

"Are you…" she drew a breath. "Are you afraid?"

"No," he said with a shake of his head. Then, realizing that this was the least important time to be macho, let his shoulders slump slightly and nodded. "Yeah, I am. I'm always scared Dawn. Every time I fight, I think I'm going to die."

"But you're…" she wasn't sure how to ask him this. "You've faced immortals before and won. I mean…a lot I assume. Wouldn't that make you more confident?"

"Are you asking me how many people I've killed?" He spoke evenly, but there was a steadiness in his eyes that Dawn felt unnerving.

"I guess…" she trailed off, unsure of whether she should continue this. "I just…I need to know, Richie. I need to know that this isn't something…"

"Something I like?" He spat angrily. "Something I get my jollies from? You want to know how many immortals I've killed, Dawn? Well I'd love to tell you but I don't know. I lost count. Does it make you happy to know that? Do you think it makes me happy? I went through a time in my life when I thought the Game was the only thing I had left. I went looking for fight after fight and obviously I won them all. I'm not proud of it, but there it is. Karkose was one of the people I challenged at the time. At the time, I wanted his head more than anything."

"And now?" Her voice was still, but her hands ached to reach out to him. She could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke about his past, could hear the regret in his voice. There was no doubt whatsoever now that Richie Ryan was a good man. A man who had made mistakes perhaps, but a good man nonetheless.

He sighed heavily.

"Now, I'd give anything to just make it all go away." He reached up and touched her face gently. "I don't want to do this. You know that, right?"

"I do," she whispered, trying to keep the tremble from her voice. "But that doesn't mean I'm not scared. I'm afraid I might lose you. I'm afraid you might die."

"Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Me too."

With that, he leaned down and kissed her deeply, thoroughly, needing her to understand on a deeper level just how much he cared for her, how much he would rather stay with her than fight for his life.

She parted her lips almost immediately and deepened the kiss with a soft sigh. If it all might end tomorrow she would remember this kiss for the rest of her life. She would remember the way his tongue gently explored her mouth, how his arms felt around her waste, how he smelled, the feel of his body pressed against hers. She had never felt so alive.

She wanted to drink in every part of him, to take him all into her and never let him go. She wanted to know that he was hers, body and soul before he went out to face Karkose. She needed that connection.

Running her hands up his chest, she heard him suck in a breath and deepen the kiss with an inarticulate growl. She accepted him hungrily and continued to explore him, reveling in the sounds he made as she did so.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity and only a mere second, he pulled away, his breathing ragged and uneven.

"Richie…" she reached out to him, wanting him back and close, hating that he had let her go.

"We should stop," he said breathlessly. "This shouldn't happen right now."

"What? No!" She shook her head, wanting desperately to change his mind. "This is exactly when this should happen. Tomorrow you could be…"

"Tomorrow I could die," he acknowledged, trying to ignore the physical wince and pain in her eyes. "But that's no reason to…I don't think you're ready, Dawn. And to be perfectly honest with you, I'm not either. Not just yet."

"But tomorrow…"

"Tomorrow I could die," he was gentler now when he said it, but it didn't lessen the blow. "But I could also live. And if I do, I don't want to lose you to regrets. If you're not ready that's what would happen. I will do my best to defeat him, I promise you. And when the time is right, this will go further. But you don't need to prove anything to me."

"Richie, I…" she couldn't fight the tears that came this time. She didn't want to lose him, but he was right about their physical relationship. The idea that he could die before they were ready to take that step broke her heart though and she couldn't hide it from him.

He pulled her close once more, cradling her head against his chest and kissing her hair gently.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered softly. "I never wanted to hurt you like this."

"It's not your fault," she said finally stepping back and wiping the tears away from her face. She squared her shoulders and resolved to stay strong. This would never work if she fell apart every time the game got in their way.

"Can we do this?" He sounded lost and alone now, terrified of her answer. "This relationship, I mean. Is it going to work? This isn't the only challenge I'll have to face, you know. Are we going to be able to handle this?"

"I…" she wanted to tell him 'yes' so badly it hurt. She wanted to take him in her arms and kiss the fear off his face. She wanted to promise him that she would never leave him, no matter what. But she couldn't. She couldn't say any of that, because she wasn't sure she wouldn't be lying if she did. She wasn't sure she could handle it all. Only time would tell. If they could make it through this challenge…if she could see him kill a man and still want to be with him….if she could handle the fear and uncertainty, then it might work. But this was the test. "I don't know. I want to say yes, but…"

"I get it," he told her and his tone suggested he did. She felt herself relax slightly. "When I come back tomorrow we'll talk. If I don't…"

"Richie, don't…"

"If I don't, I want you to know this…" he took a deep breath and stared deep into her eyes to the very depths of her. "I love you."


End file.
